Heaven's Tears
by That Little Writer Cat
Summary: So, I think you guys noticed Devil May Cry 5 was unveiled at E3, so the hype was quite considerable. As a result, I just redid the whole series (except 2 and the Ninja Theory reboot, cause...well, you know) plus the anime...and I just really wanted to try writing something on the subject. So here it is. My first fanfiction. Hope you guys enjoy it.
1. Job Offer

**Author's notes:** Hey there!

So this is basically my very first fanfiction. As I'm sure you've noticed, Devil May Cry 5 was recently unveiled at E3, which drove me into replaying the whole serie (except 2) and rewatch the anime. The more I immersed myself back into this incredible universe, the more I wanted to write something about it. So here we are.

First chapter allows me to, in a way, reintroduce the character of Dante. Not a lot of action there, but I tried to capture Dante's personality through the style of narration. Also, Patty is a character from the anime.

Hope you enjoy!

 **HEAVEN'S TEARS**

 **Chapter 1: Job Offer**

It was far too quiet. Had been so for the past two weeks, really. Last client was something like thirteen days ago (lucky number, they say…). Nothing since then. No job, no phone call…and it was sooooo boring.

Laying on the couch, Dante was vaguely staring at his desk, and the pile of empty beer cans and pizza boxes piling up on it (and the occasional fly buzzing around…). He didn't even have any money left to buy himself a strawberry sundae, what with Lady having taken most of his income to pay off his poker debt. This situation tended to clearly annoy his banker, but also the pizza guy who was getting worried by the increasing size of his tab.

With nothing better to do, Dante dragged himself to the jukebox. Passing his finger on the machine, he noticed the heavy layer of dust that covered it (at the very least, Patty wouldn't be coming for naughts…). He pressed a button, loaded the Rock Queen disc, his favorite, and hit play. The jukebox made two notes, started to squeak miserably as expected from a machine that stayed under the dust for thirteen days (lucky number, they say…), and broke. With a grunt, Dante slammed his fist on the machine. All this usually quite efficient method managed to do this time was a huge hole in the disc cabin.

Lucky thirteen, my ass.

'Hello there!'

He didn't even turn back when Patty came in, just stood there sadly staring at his broken jukebox.

'Oh, c'mon!' Patty said. 'You ate nothing but pizza? You could have at least thrown the boxes in the dumpster, that would be less work forOH NO!'

The young girl ran to the Jukebox.

'You broke it AGAIN?! Morrison's gonna kill you when he sees that! He's really got other things to do than repairing your…you ok?'

She felt a bit worried when seeing Dante's apathic, expressionless face.

'Dante, is there a problem?'

Dante turned to face the eight-year old girl next to him. Patty once came to the _Devil May Cry_ hoping for Dante to help her find her long-lost mother. Feeling charitable (or drunk from the night before), Dante had agreed to lend her a hand. With no money to pay for his services, the girl, fully bent on thanking him one way or another, had decided to become the _Devil May Cry_ 's "official cleaning lady". This led to this curious situation in which, once a week, Dante had to bear with the company of a kid who just rummaged through his belongings like a hurricane, was more talkative than Jesse Eisenberg, and sang while working (and badly at that…).

A curious situation in which Dante tended to regret not to have the courage to clean his office by himself.

'No,' he answered while crawling back to the couch. 'That's kinda the point…'

Patty just stared at him for a few seconds with her big round eyes, and then, rolling up her sleeves, she took the broom from the closet and got to work.

'You could at least use the vacuum cleaner from time to time!' she said. 'I'll have less time to come here now that Mom got me back to school. Oh, by the way, do you know that my History teacher…'

And she just went on and on, tackling fascinating subjects such as her new school, her mom's new job, the problems she had on the subway last week, or who was dating who in her favorite sitcom. Dante was barely listening. He was staring blankly at the ceiling, reminiscing about the "major events" of the past few days.

Trish had left for Europe to take care of some important business (which basically meant "gone for God knows how long"). Lady had come to play poker a few nights back (which only brought Dante's debt from 5000 to 6000$). Morrison had come to repair the telly for the umpteenth time (but brought no job).

And for the past three days, nothing. Far too quiet. Boring.

'Dante, you listening?'

No answer.

'You sleeping?'

'If I say yes, will you stop talking?'

'Dumbass…'

He allowed himself a smile. At the very least, he had Patty to keep him company for the time being.

The phone rang. Once. Then twice. Then thrice.

'…you're not answering?' Patty asked.

Without much enthusiasm, Dante took a quick look at the distance between the couch from the desk. Four steps.

'Too far…'

'What do you mean, "too far"?! What if it's a job?!'

'This time of day? T'will be a guy who thinks I handle the lost and founds.'

'You can't know that! What if it's Trish calling from Europe? Maybe she needs help! Or maybe Lady had finally found that wolf monster she told me about last week, because she…'

'FINE! Just shut it already!'

Dante picked up the phone.

'Devil May Cry?'

'Yeah, hello, I'm…'

'Yeah, sorry, we close at 9.'

'Huh? But it's 2PM, what gi…'

And he hung up.

'See?' said Dante. 'Told you. No password.'

'You know, I always thought, if you want more clients to come, you should perhaps think about redesigning your front door. I don't know, paint the walls or something. Cause seriously, when I first came here, I just really thought…'

'Is your name Dante?'

Patty just stopped, turning to the front door.

The man was an Afro-American, bald and muscular, wearing a brown leather jacket and shades, and carrying a briefcase. Aside from the tribal tattoo on the side of his skull, he looked exactly like Samuel L. Jackson.

Dante barely reacted to the presence of this man.

'If you were sent by Lady, I don't need another tax audit, thank you very much. It it's Morrison, I promise I'll never break the TV again. If it's Trish, just put the postcards in the mail box. And if it's for an emergency, the toilet's in the back.'

The man didn't seem to mind those less than flattering words.

'I wish to talk to you, Mr Dante. In private.'

Instinctively, Dante turned to Patty. Meeting his gaze, the young girl made an angry gasp.

'Fine,' she said. 'I got it.'

Once Patty had left the room, the man walked to the desk.

'Most people say that you take pride in taking care of…let's say, unusual jobs.'

Dante straightened himself a bit. He was still looking at the man, but his gaze went from "too boring, didn't listen" to "wait, I heard something slightly interesting."

'They also say you are exceptionally good at what you do.'

Dante studied his potential client for a moment. The man's face was expressionless, frozen almost. Had he not seen his lips move, Dante could have sworn he was talking to a ventriloquist. His eyes, hidden behind his shades, concealed any attempt at emoting. In his leather jacket and pink scarf, he almost looked like an automaton.

'Gotta warn you', Dante said. 'If your job requires me to get a tattoo as well, I don't think you got the right man.'

As an answer, the man sat down, put his briefcase on the desk, opened it, and took out a picture which he handed to Dante. It was the picture of a woman, Asian type, late twenties, black hair but with strands of blonde.

'Cute…' Dante said. 'But if it's about dating problems, there are websites for that.'

Without answering, without even the shadow of a smile (cracked lips, perhaps?) the man took out a second picture.

-Ouch…now that's a handful…

Corpses. Slit throats, burst chests, big blood puddles drooling from fresh wounds…Dexter Morgan would be proud.

'The woman from the first picture was responsible for this massacre,' the man said in a monotone voice. 'She snuck into my employer's vault and stole something extremely valuable.'

'No roses without thorns…what was the stolen good?'

The man took out a third picture. It was the picture of some sort of heavy, angular stone, roughly the size of a kitchen book. It's color evoked granite more than anything else. Dante felt slightly let down.

'…extremely precious, huh? Well I always knew gold was overrated…'

'My employer wishes to recover his property, Mr Dante. He also would want the girl to be handed to him. Dead or alive.'

Dante just leaned back on his chair, looking slightly disappointed.

'I was hoping for a good, action-packed job, and you ask me to play geology? Who's your employer, anyway?'

'I can't tell you this information.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'Well then come back when you can! That's how I work.'

With that said, Dante put his feet on the desk, took an old magazine from one of his drawers, and said:

'Pleasure doing business with you, sir. Close the door on your way out.'

The man remained unfazed (maybe he really was an automaton, after all…), remained silent for a short moment, then turned the briefcase around to show Dante its content.

'HOLY SHIT!'

It was filled to the brim with dollar bills.

'500 000$ if you take the job, Mr Dante.'

Dante seized a wad to examine the bills, his eyes glowing with the eagerness he usually expressed in front of a strawberry sundae.

'250 000$ now. The rest when the job is done.'

500 000$. Five hundred grands! Cash! Dante felt his heart spin in his chest. He was already thinking about the new jukebox he would be able to buy, his bike that was begging to see the mechanic since last month, the face of his banker when seeing all this money. He wouldn't even have to care about his gambling debt to Lady. 500 000$.

'…I think you made your point, Mr Shades.


	2. Orphans

Author's Notes: I kinda noticed that, recently, Dante was never the main character of his own games. In DMC2, there was Lucia, and now there's Nero as the series' lead. I think that, for dramatic reasons, it's the most appropriate way to go. Dante is pretty much OP, having him as main character would ruin the dramatic tension. So here, I introduce my second protagonist. The writing style is very different from chapter 1, I wanted to reflect their difference of personality in the narration.

Please don't hesitate to leave a review, that would be much appreciated.

ORPHANS

The only sound she could hear was that, soft and steady, of her breathing. It was as if the world around had been deprived of its voice. Actually, she wasn't even sure there was a world around her anymore. Strangely, there was something soothing about that thought. A constant stream of images was flowing through her mind, with none really taking precedence over the other. Were they memories? Dreams? She didn't know. She didn't want to know. She just was there, alone, surrounded by her own thoughts. Alone with herself.

Then, slowly, in this beautiful silence, a whisper seemed to emerge, vague and distant like an echo. A calming melody in which the sound of the wind in the trees and the laughter of children intertwined, and yet it made her shuddered. Without really wanting it, she opened her eyes.

Nothing remained of the heavy storm clouds that had smothered the sunlight for the past few days. Just a few white trails here and there, lazily floating across the blue sky. It took her time to get back up, her body was still stiff from the long nap she took.

She took a circular look around her, standing still, barefoot in the grass, her arms dangling by her side. The park was almost empty by now. Only a few people remained, strolling here and there or reading a book under a tree. The sun was already starting to descend on the horizon.

It had gone by so fast.

Slowly, without really thinking, she dusted the grass from her clothes, put her shoes back on without even tying them, and headed for the exit. She was walking without really watching where she was going, traying instead to remember what her dream had been, but the closer she got from the center of town, the more the world seemed to take shape around her, slowly pulling her back to reality. The air became more oppressive, more sultry, a lingering smell of sweat and gasoline permeating the concrete walls like a giant greenhouse, silence making room to the uproar of the crowd, the engines and sirens.

The shriek of the big city.

'You fucking thief! Wha, you think it's free canteen, here?!'

A group of people had started to form around the shop. The shopkeeper, fat and imposing, was shaking a little girl up without restraint. His eyes seemed to have tripled in size with anger. The little girl, her face contorted with the pain of the slaps she was occasionally receiving, was screaming her lungs out.

'You're hurting me!'

'Good! That way you'll learn your fucking lesson, you piece of shit!'

The young woman took a look around her. More than fifteen people were watching the scene, as if it was a street show organized to entertain passer-byes. Some looked outraged, some were giggling, some were even filming with their phones. But none intervened.

'Hey!'

The young woman made her way through the crowd.

'Is that something you do often?' she said disapprovingly. 'Hitting children like that?'

The shopkeeper glared back at her. She couldn't help but notice that vein on the side of his forehead.

'That's something I do when they come to empty my stand! Wha, you gonna take her side, now?!'

'Yes,' she answered calmly but firmly. 'Because I don't hit a thief when he's not even half my size.'

'Oh really?! Oh that's just fine and dandy, now! They come to steal your stuff, and we should welcome them with fucking roses! Who the fuck are you anyway?! Her ma?'

The young woman had increasing difficulty hiding her disgust at the shopkeeper's vulgarity. It only occurred to her then that his constant screaming was really starting to irritate her.

'Doesn't matter who I am. Now let her go before you break her arm.'

'Oh really?! Well since you seem to really want to take care of her, perhaps you can pay for what she stole, right? Time to take responsibility, missy!'

There was something vaguely obscene in these words, in the way he pronounced them. Something nauseating, as if his very Greed was coming out of the pores of his skin. She stared at him for a moment…and then she smiled.

'You want money, is that it?' she said with an unctuous voice. 'Not a problem, my good sir, I'll give you what you want.'

While she feigned searching through her pocket, she took a quick look at the crowd around her: a few more had come to listen to the argument between her and the man. Nearly twenty persons.

That was perfect.

'Here you go, good sir.'

A wave of astonishment spread through the assembly when they saw what she took out of her pocket.

'…a ruby?'

It was a beautiful, shiny red stone, roughly the size of a tangerine, glimmering under the setting sun.

'Well, actually, it's a garnet, but it's still very valuable, and I'm sure it will largely cover your losses and oops, clumsy me…'

She dropped the stone to her feet. The reaction was immediate.

'IT'S MINE!'

'I SAW IT FIRST!'

'OUT OF THE WAY, YOU…'

'CALM DOWN! CALM DOOOOOWN!'

Everybody was screaming and ramming into each other, desperately trying to get their hand on the stone. Soon, the brawl was such that the shopkeeper had to elbow people away to protect his fruit stand. As such, when the young woman calmly took the hand of the little girl and walked away as if nothing happened, nobody cared. With an impish smile, the child turned to her protector.

'Haha! You got them good!'

No answer. Actually, the woman was looking quite stern at the moment.

'I mean, the ruby trick, that was great! They didn't even notice when…'

'Haven't I told you to stop the shoplifting gig?'

The girl's smile disappeared when she heard the tinge of reproach in the woman's voice.

'…I was hungry…'

'Assia, if you're hungry, you come and find me, ok? I can make you sandwiches, I can even give you some money, ok?'

Assia just stared at her feet, doing her best not to look the older woman in the eyes, and said:

'I don't want you to do that. You already do a lot for me…'

'Hey, I'm the grownup here, ok? I'm the one who's here to worry about you.'

The child just nodded tentatively, and asked:

'…you angry, Liya?'

The woman just looked at her protegee, half -comforting, half-exasperated.

'I'd rather you didn't steal from honest…from other people.'

Kneeling down, she put her hand on Assia's shoulder and said:

'You promise you'll never do it again?'

'What if I'm hungy?'

Liya just chuckled. That was probably a lost cause, anyway. So she took a her handkerchief and covered her left hand with it. When she removed it one second later, there was a big red apple in the hand.

'Whoa, so cool!'

'BUT! I don't want to hear you've been shoplifting again, is that clear?'

Cassandra nodded while biting in the fruit, although her expression was mostly saying "yeah, sure, whatever."

'Alright, let's go,' Liya said while tousling the kid's hair. 'Won't take those people long to realize the stone was just a trick.'

'Where have you been today?'

'I was resting at the park.'

'You working, tonight?'

Liya didn't answer immediately.

'…yes,' she said eventually.

That was clearly not the answer Assia was expecting.

'But I'll be back quick, you know?'

'Hum…' Assia answered, without much conviction.

Liya knew what the kid was thinking. Generally speaking, Assia hated having to stay alone.

'…look, you know what?' Liya said. 'Tomorrow, I'm taking you to the lookout. The city lights are beautiful, at night.'

'…you promise?'

'I promise.'

And so, Assia smile at her. That was all she needed.


	3. Full House

Author's notes: Devil May Cry's chronology can be a little wonkey for some. First game in the chronology is 3, then there's 1, then the events of the anime, and finally 4 and 2. I place my story between the anime and 4 (though if you want to imagine it takes place after 4, that works as well…).

Finally some action! Would be a weird DMC fanfic if there was no fighting at some point or another. This chapter was inspired by a scene in the anime.

Again, please don't hesitate to leave a review.

FULL HOUSE

A man with silver hair and wearing a red long coat came into the bar. It was something like 2 in the morning. Though the lights were on, the whole place was mostly in the dark. Sitting at the counter, the man took a quick look around him. There was just an old drunkard snoring in a corner, and three people playing poker, surrounded by the smoke of their cigarettes.

'What will it be, sir?' the barkeep asked absent-mindedly.

'A strawberry sundae.'

The barkeep paused. Even the poker players turned around, wondering who the hell was this wimp.

'…err, this is a bar, mister. No place for a kid…' the barkeep said, trying his best not to burst out laughing.

'Really? Too bad…'

'So what will it be?'

'Though for a bar, I'd expect to smell more alcohol, in here...you know, instead of blood.'

The barkeep stopped smiling.

'I heard some funny rumors lately, you know?' the man continued. 'Apparently there's some outdated, violent bar in the neighborhood. Though apparently, they don't take you money there. They take your life.'

The barkeep suddenly felt very ill-at-ease. The white-haired man was casting him a very strange look, both distant and inquisitive. Might as well be staring through his skull.

'And let's not forget this other rumor,' the stranger continued. 'The one about those huge beasts roaming around the neighborhood from time to time. Not dogs. Bigger.'

He paused. Then he turned slightly towards the poker player in his back.

'…scary, ain'it?'

At the table, the players stopped moving, as if transfixed by these words (or maybe one of them just delivered a straight flush and the others were too shocked to react…). After a few seconds, one of them picked his beer bottle and got up.

'Yeah, I see what you mean…' he said. 'Wait, actually…'

Suddenly, he crashed the bottle on the edge of the table and jumped on the man.

'…let me GET YOU SOMETHING!'

His body was propelled backwards with incredible violence, blood exploding out of his skull like a geyser, splashing over the tables and seats. The detonation, sudden and deafening, echoed through the room like a shriek. When the card player's body finally hit the floor, the barkeep let out a cry so high-pitched one might have wondered what he did with his balls.

Dante twirled his gun around his finger a few times, blew the smoke at the end of the barrel and put it back in his holster. As the rest of the attendance just stared at him in bewilderment, he just walked to the fresh corpse laying on the floor. Blood was flowing from his forehead, spreading across the floor in a filthy scarlet puddle. His eyes were bulging, lifeless, still. Dante knelt right next to him and said:

'…seriously, dude, how long do you plan to stay there? You're making a mess of the floor!'

For a second, there was silence. Then there was a smile.

On the dead man's face.

'If that's what you want, asshole!'

And then, the poker player got back up. His wound was no longer bleeding, but a set of claws, sharp and glowing under the pale light, came out of the tip of his fingers. His teeth suddenly began to grow, slowly replaced by fangs. Two horns sprouted out of the back of his skull, and his eyes turned bright red. The thing facing Dante now, glaring at him with terrible savagery, was not human anymore.

It was a demon.

'And I thought professional players took care of their looks…'

Dante took a quick look at the other two players. One of them was now sporting a reptilian tail and scales were starting to cover his face. The other had mandibles growing out of his mouth, and something that looked like a huge fin had sprouted out of his back. As the three monstrosities slowly moved toward him, Dante discreetly licked his lips.

'Haven't exercised in quite some time, boys!' he said while taking Rebellion out of his sheath. 'Hope you don't mind getting warmed up on you!'

Screaming horribly, the three demons threw themselves at Dante. There was a gunshot. A yell of pain.

One down.

GOD, he had missed this. The adrenaline, the tension, the thrill when evading an attack at the last moment, the smell of gunpowder and the din of his guns, the shock in his arm when he impaled his prey…

'I'm absolutely CRAZY about it!'

For the first time in thirteen days, Dante was back in his element. THIS was what he lived for.

A block, a quick dodge, and Dante threw a massive kick in the jaw of the lizardman. The impact was such that the demon didn't feel his skull break when he hit the concrete wall.

Just one left.

'So what do you say, pal? We keep dancing or we start fighting for real?'

Out of breath, out of patience, the demon with the mandibles jumped on Dante with all the strength, all the fury he was still able to summon. He barely saw Dante evade his attack. The next thing his felt was the coldness of the steel piercing through his throat.

A bullet in the arm. In the torso. The head. The ribs, the shoulders, the legs, bullets were raining down on him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could feel every limb, every square inch of his body being ripped apart before he fell to the floor, screaming in agony. He couldn't move anymore. The fight was over.

Whistling absent-mindedly, Dante picked up his sword and unceremoniously removed it from his prey's throat.

'Ok, now that we took care of the introductions, let's have a little chat, shall we?'

Laying on the floor, blood coming out of his many wounds, the demon gave Dante a hate-filled look.

'You…bastard! What…what the fuck do you want?!'

'Well, like I said: I just wanted a strawberry sundae.'

He paused to kneel next to the demon.

'That being said, I just thought to myself that a bar full of demons was perhaps a fine place to get information.'

He searched through his pocket and took out the picture the man with the tribal tattoo had given him.

'Seen this young lady, recently? T's for a date, apparently.'

Had the demon been able to, he would have spit blood in Dante's face.

'You…you want me to help YOU?! Go to hell! Should have thought about it…before you wiped the floor with us!'

'Hey! Last I checked, you're still breathing, right? C'mon pal, tell me if you know where I can find her, and I put and end to your suffering.'

The demon was till glaring at him, but eventually he said:

'She came here three nights ago…was talking about a museum…something about stones she had to find…'

That last part caught Dante's attention. Stones. Plural.

'Thanks for the info,' said Dante.

He stood up, took Ivory out and said:

'Say hi to your pals back in Hell.'

Another gunshot. With his job done, Dante headed towards the exit when he remembered something.

'Oh yeah…almost forgot.'

He unsheathed Rebellion and threw the sword in the counter. The yelp he heard informed him he had hit his target. He walked to the counter, removed his sword and watched as the dead body of the barkeep slumped on the floor.

'Next time you open a bar, don't forget the strawberry sundaes…'

With that said, he walked back to the exit, opened the door and left.

The sudden disappearance of the smell of sweat and cordite was almost shocking. A cold wind was blowing in the street, carrying with it a few ragged newspapers, torn by the restlessness of the city. Turning his coat collar up, Dante thought back on what the demon said.

The girl on the picture had stolen something "extremely valuable", and apparently she wasn't keen on stopping with one. What was it that was so valuable about these stones, he had no idea. What he did know was that there were now three people in this city who were after the stones: Mr Shades, the girl on the picture…and himself.

As he was about to leave, he vaguely heard the demon disguised as a barkeep getting up and running to him, grunting threateningly. Dante turned around, took out Ebony one last time, and said:

'…bingo.'

Last gunshot.


	4. Shades

Author's notes: Just came back a few days ago from holidays, that's why I haven't been updating in some time. But I did manage to write two chapters during my absence, so I'll post the next one in a few days.

This one is a bit short. I start to introduce a bit who my villains are gonna be. Also, after I showed Dante's power level in the last chapter, I give you a glimpse today of Liya's power level. Next chapter, I'll start explaining a bit of the lore of the series for those who are unfamiliar with Devil May Cry's story.

Again, please if you enjoy or if you have comments, leave a review. That would definitely help me improve.

SHADE

Although the Redgrave Museum of Ancient Art was by no mean a famous museum like the Met or the Louvres, the security was still reasonably tight. Several surveillance cameras pointed at the most precious pieces of the collection, infrared sensors protecting the most visited rooms, a few guards…it was no Pentagon, but stealing something from this place would still be tricky. That is, if what you want to steal is worth a lot on the black market of course.

Luckily for Liya, the thing she was looking for? No one cared about it. No one of importance, anyway. As such, while most of the surveillance system was focused on five or six important rooms, nobody noticed the tall, black-haired woman who was lazily strolling towards a tiny room in the back of the building, silently walking like a shadow among the display cases.

There were ancient plates, bowls, vases with little characters painted on them, all these relics from mankind's long, bloody history. And then, after a few minutes, she stopped, a broad smile appearing on her face.

There it was. Stored among parchments and shiny utensils. Liya walked to the display case and looked at the stone. Shimmering in spite of the darkness, its edges thin but sharp like the blade of a knife, the dust barely tarnishing the immaculate blackness of its surface.

It was perfect.

'…you know it's not polite to stare a ladies.' Liya said as she turned a round. Still the room was empty, silent.

'Come on, show yourself!' she said. 'I won't bite…too much.'

Suddenly, a large monster emerged from the shadows like a lizard. Its scarlet eyes were glimmering in the dark. Then another demons stepped out of the shadows, carrying a large axe in its hands. And another. And yet another, until they were a dozen staring menacingly at the young lady.

'Coming here tonight after your performance from last week is rather bold, Mademoiselle.'

The man had come out of shadows the same way its demons had before him. Wearing a grey suit, his skin was morbidly pale, which only enhanced the amber tint of his eyes.

'Then again,' he said, 'bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, wouldn't you agree?'

Liya chuckled at his comment.

'You talk about bravery? Ten of you against little old me?'

'We just wanted to make sure you wouldn't escape with our property like you did last time.'

'What, those stones? Sorry but I don't really see "Resurgam" written on it, am I right?'

Swiftly, she broke the display case and took the stone.

'So you know what they say, right? Finders-keepers'

The man chuckled disapprovingly.

'How unfortunate…' he said. 'I was hoping we wouldn't have to tear the place apart.'

He barely finished his sentence that all the demons lunged at the woman, screaming and roaring horribly.

'Let's go.'

With a flash of light, a beautiful bluish spear appeared in Liya's hands. She rolled on the side and, with a wide sweep, she cut one of her opponents in two. Without even turning around, she kicked on of the demons in her back, sending it flying across the room. And the pack was still screaming, clawing, biting away at their target. And still the couldn't reach her.

She was manipulating the azur spear so gracefully, so precisely it seemed to materialize instantly to block attacks, claws, teeth and horns, spinning around her body like a protective aura. In the eye of the storm, Liya felt completely separated from the surrounding chaos.

'So?' She asked. 'Are you coming for this stone or not?'

Seven of the demons had fell to her blade, as such the rest was starting to back off. They obviously hadn't expected the counter-attack to be so swift. They remained motionless for some time, waiting, observing, looking for another opportunity.

They had lost the initiative.

'My turn.'

And suddenly, with a swift gesture of her hand, Liya sent three daggers of pure light at her opponents, before jumping high in the air. Before the demons could realize what happened, two of them got violently hit in the face by the daggers, falling to the ground with a yell of pain. Liya landed gracefully between the last two monsters and, in one fell swoop, she decapitated them both. There was a slump, the sound of blood erupting from the wound. And then nothing. Silence and darkness again, as if the whole fight had been nothing but a bad dream.

'I'm impressed.'

The man was lazily clapping his hand in mock admiration.

'Even after little journey, the Infinity in you still shines through, Mademoiselle.'

'Yeah, and if you don't want to see more, I suggest you leave and go back to your brotherhood.' Liya said, pointing the end of her spear at the man. 'That would be much appreciated.'

'Well unfortunately…'

One moment, she was pointing her spear at her adversary. The next, she was laying on the ground, out of breath and her back sending surges of pain throughout her body. It took her a few seconds to understand he punched her straight in the wall.

'I've been kind enough not to underestimate you. I'd be very grateful if you did the same with me.'

Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her, but she thought for a second that his voice had suddenly become a lot deeper, hoarser. And then the man started to grow up, more and more, until he nearly reached the ceiling. With a sinister crack, his torso ripped itself from his legs and the top half of his body started to hover like a ghost. His face seemed to rot little by little, until there was nothing on his bones but a few shreds of skin and a strange glowing light in his rib cage.

'Over-confidence after all,' he said, 'is the worst enemy of all.'

Without warning, he plunged his claws at his opponent. Liya barely avoided the attack, but wasn't fast enough to avoid his other hand. He seized her by her waist, swirled her around like a rag doll and smashed her against one of the stone pillars scattered across the room.

'You shouldn't have come here tonight.'

Liya tried to get back up, but the icy hand of the demon came once more to clench her neck. Again, she felt the monster lift her off the ground, ready to smash her against the wall. She barely had the time to glare one last time at the demon…

…before that white-haired, red trench-coated bloke appeared out of nowhere.


	5. Heaven and Hell

Author's notes: The two characters meet, and two writing styles collide. I tried to blend both writing styles as smoothly as possible. I hope I did ok.

I also like this chapter because I finally present the mythology of the series, which is one of the aspects of the Devil May Cry saga that I enjoyed the most when I was a kid.

Once again, your opinion would be greatly appreciated.

HEAVEN AND HELL

'…damn, he's ugly.'

That was Dante's first thought when he looked at the giant bonehead that had been trouncing that lady for the past five minutes. The big skeleton monster was staring at him stupidly, wondering who the hell was that guy. They kept staring at each other for barely half a second, but it seemed like an eternity for the both of them, as if nobody knew what to do next. (I mean, imagine you mind your own business, slowly killing the person that had been stealing from you all this time, and suddenly a guy comes out of nowhere and just stares at you. What the hell do you want to say, in this kind of situation?)

So, knowing that this half-second was gonna turn into a full second if he didn't do anything (and he really didn't want to stare at that ugly face anymore time than he needed to), Dante took out his gun, aimed right between the eyes, and shot.

There was a roar, the woman fell from the hands of the demon…

…the rest is gonna be more difficult to describe.

Physical contact with the ground was less painful than she had anticipated. She remained a few seconds laying on the floor, trying to catch her breath as much as she could. She didn't really know what just happened. She could hear the yells of pain and rage echoing through the walls of the museum, but in a distorted way, as if she was inside a bubble. She turned around and looked up, trying to get her bearings. That's when she saw the demon, flailing around like a child, trying to catch the man in the red coat.

Dante was evading, pouncing, sliding between the fingers of his opponent with ridiculous ease. No matter how hard or how violently the monster was hitting, Dante always seemed to be three steps ahead. Once more, the demon smashed the ground, once more all he hit was dust and rubbles.

'C'mon man!' Dante joked. 'You scared?!'

'You coward! Stop moving around and fight like a man!'

As such, Dante landed on the ground, crossed his arms and said:

'All right dude, come and get me!...if you can.'

The demon didn't need to be asked twice. He clenched his fist and smashed his adversary with all the might he could summon.

'…WHAT THE?!'

Dante had blocked the attack with just one hand.

'WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!'

Dante raised his eyes toward the demon. They looked sharp, menacing, sadistic even.

'I'm just a guy with a sword and two guns.' He said, seizing the handle of Rebellion. 'For freaks like you? That's more than enough.'

And he struck. Violently. Brutally. So forcefully that it took a few seconds for the demon to register the pain. The monster looked down on his chest. All he could see was the sword of his enemy and the deep, long cut on his bones. And another strike. Just as swift. Just as powerful. And another. And another, and yet another. And suddenly, the demon screams. But there's no rage, no anger, not even pain in this scream.

Only fear.

That was the first time he felt such horrid thing as fear. That was the last thing he ever felt.

'Woohoo! And I thought museums were boring as hell!'

Putting his sword back in its sheathe, Dante took a moment to appreciate his work: what had been, a few seconds prior, an ugly, mean, maybe bank account owning demon, was now nothing more than…well, let's just say that when Dante turned around to face the pretty lady he had just saved from the big bad monster, all he could hear behind his back was the large skeleton crumble like a pile of dominoes.

'Too bad you were in no shape to enjoy the show!' he said to the young woman. 'Can you walk?'

'I…think so…'

Her voice sounded a bit tired as she got back on her feet.

'Thanks for the help,' she said.

In an ideal world, that would be the moment when the damsel languidly kisses the hero under a beautiful pink sunset. But since it was the middle of the night, and our everyday life tend to prove that this is no ideal world, Dante simply answered:

'Nah, don't worry! That's on par with the job. But I think you should rest a bit, you really don't look so good…'

'The light…take me to the light…'

Dante looked around. The ceiling had collapsed in some places, letting the light of the moon shine through the building. Dante helped the young woman walk up to the beam of light. Instantly, she felt as if she had just got her head out of the water, as if her lungs had just been filled with fresh, pure oxygen. The few scratches on her body seemed to vanish under the moonlight. She felt renewed.

'That's a nice trick…'

She took a few seconds to steady her breathing, and smiled at Dante.

'Thank you.'

'Don't thank me…but I wouldn't mind knowing why a pretty lady such as yourself gets herself attacked by a horde of demons in a second-rate museum in the middle of the night.'

She looked around the room.

'I was looking for something.' She said. 'Unfortunately, it seems this guy you just took down wanted the same thing, we had trouble handling the share…ah, there it is!'

She walked over a few rubbles and knelt in the dust. There it was. Deep black, shimmering, its edges sharp like the tiger's claws. She almost shivered when she picked up the stone, when her fingers felt the cold surface of the artefact.

'That's two.' She whispered.

That's when she heard it. This clinking that seemed to erase all other sound. Liya stood perfectly still, letting the sound echo inside her brain.

'…is that why you saved my life?' she asked. 'Just so you could kill me yourself?'

When she turned around, she saw the end of a gun aimed right at her forehead.

'Sorry, Miss…' Dante said. 'A pretty serious guy payed a large amount of money for your head, and right now, I really don't want my banker to be mad at me.'

Liya didn't seem afraid. Or angry. She just looked intently at the gun, her mind racing.

'Listen,' she said in a surprisingly calm voice, 'if you wish to kill me, I won't fight back. But I have something extremely important to do with these stones. Just give me three days. By then, I'll be done with these. Then you'll be able to get these back to their owners and…and kill me.'

'…what, really? You're not even going to defend yourself?'

She had a small, strangely sad laugh.

'…would I even stand a chance against you?'

Dante gave no answer, his gun remained aimed right between her eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, they just stood there, facing each other, each one trying to guess the other's intentions. Then, ever so slowly, Dante pulled the trigger.

The gunshot seemed to echo throughout the entire museum. Liya had felt her heart stop for an instant, and still there was no pain. Just a shiver when the bullet had soared out of the gun barrel. She opened her eyes, turned around, and was just in time to catch a glimpse of the demon the bullet had just hit. Probably one last survivor lurking in the shadows.

'Thank you.'

'Nah, don't thank me,' Dante said. 'I got two rules I try not to break.'

'Which are?'

'First and foremost, never hurt humans in anyway…even if sometimes they deserve it more than demons themselves.'

'Seems fair…and the second one?'

Dante didn't answer right away.

'Don't mess with the guys upstairs,' he said. 'So I imagine killing you wouldn't respect that second rule…am I right, Angel?'

For a moment, she remained expressionless. Then a small, pathetic smile appeared on her face.

'I'm no Angel,' she said. 'Not anymore…'

And then she extended her arm in a swift, ample gesture. Glimmering in the darkness like a golden sculpture, one beautiful wing appeared in her back, a few long feathers fluttering around like snow.

'I am what they call a Heaven's Tear, one of these creatures whose very existence shame the Skies Above. I suppose I'm what humans call a Fallen Angel.'

Dante couldn't help but chuckle at this last remark.

'I knew Paradiso was quite the exclusive club, but I didn't know they kicked people out…What the hell did you do to get exiled?'

Liya seemed to hesitate for a few seconds.

'…let's just say I wasn't born in the right place.'

'You do realize, of course, that being a Fallen Angel does a number on your credibility, right? How can I be sure you're not gonna do anything stupid with these stones?'

Liya didn't seem fazed by this question in the slightest.

'Even if I wanted the end of the world, you'd be there to stop me, right?'

She paused, and then added:

'You're the son of Sparda, after all.'

A beat. And a laugh. A forced, sour, almost cynical laugh.

'I see dad still has his fanclub…' Dante jeered.

'Even in the Skies Above, your father is spoken of with the upmost respect. With devotion, even. He, the greatest Swordsmaster the Infernal Lands had ever known. He, the demon who, 2000 years ago, rebelled against his own kind for the sake of the human race. Your father's abnegation and selflessness are an inspiration for a lot of people, even amongst our kind.'

'Funny…most people I've met keep telling me he was a traitor whose head should be mounted on a spike. Then again, most people I've met were demons…'

Yet another laugh. Amused for Liya, jaded for Dante.

'I'm really not sure letting a Fallen Angel play with these toys is wise,' Dante said, 'but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. You got three days.'

'Thank you! I promise you won't regret it!' Liya said with a satisfied grin.

Spreading her single wing, she was about to take off when Dante asked:

'By the way, what's your name?'

'Liya.'

'… "Liya", like…?'

'One of Abraham's daughters. It means "Grace" in Hebrew.'

'Ah, ok…' Dante stammered (he was thinking about the acting school…)

'And you're Dante, right?'

'None other.'

'Thanks Dante.'

She took off.

'Don't thank me yet…'


	6. The Other Promise

THE OTHER PROMISE

'Valefar is dead.'

Ziz took some time to assimilate the news. Although it was to be expected given the recent events, it was still a shock. It was also very worrying.

'So,' she said, 'are we sure this was the doing of the Son of Sparda?'

'There's little doubt,' Tarask said. 'The soul that killed Valefar was giving off a resonance that was far beyond that of any Higher Demon. It was beyond an entire circle, even.'

Tarask remained calm and collected, but his face clearly expressed a growing concern.

'…it felt like a God.'

'How could he have learnt of the stones?' Ziz asked. 'You think Liya told him?'

'I don't know. To be honest, we're not even sure he's really an enemy. The only problem is the Master didn't plan to factor in chance in his project of his. Right now, our top priority is to reawaken the key as fast as possible.'

'So we carry on with the plan?'

'As scheduled. Keep an eye on your Angel friend.'

Only at night does the city show its true magnificence. When the sun rises, the city turns into a beast, the giant buildings become titans of steel and glass looking down on the people, concealing the sky, holding the pollution on street level. When the sun rises, the city becomes threatening, oppressing.

But at night…

At night, you don't exactly know what you're looking at, when the city lights intertwine with the stars. At night, the city unveils its beauty, its hidden depth. A treasure black as ink, like an unknown constellation glimmering before your eyes, a forgotten civilization springing out of the dark. Every sense of scale vanishes, the city becomes limitless, and you slowly lose yourself in a strange and delightful dizziness. That was what Liya thought as she and Assia reached the lookout point.

In the intimacy of the night, Darkness became beauty.

'Wow! It's awesome!' Assia shouted.

'So what do you think, kiddo?' Liya asked.

'And you come here every night?!'

'Ha, I wish…but I usually have other things to do when you're asleep…'

Assia eyes were beaming with amazement.

'That's the first time I leave the city center!' she said. 'I never went any further than the West End, before!'

It took Liya quite a few seconds to fully assimilate what the young girl had just said. For eight years, Assia had been stuck in this city.

'…you mean,' Liya asked, 'that you never left this city before?'

'…no, why?'

Eight years cut from the world. Just thinking about it made Liya's heart ache a bit.

'Where are YOU from, by the way?'

Liya didn't answer, or rather, she wasn't really listening.

'…I'm sorry, what was that?'

'I was asking where you were from.'

'…where I'm from?'

'Yeah, you know? Before you came to this city?'

'…oh!'

Again, Liya didn't answer. Because she didn't know what to answer.

Something she had learnt living with Assia these past few weeks was that children always knew when they were being lied to. She didn't want to make up an elaborate lie, but at the same time, she couldn't think of any appropriate answer.

'I come…' she started hesitantly. 'I come from…well, far away, and…'

'Where?'

Liya felt truly lost, by then. Yeah, exactly, where?

She felt a bit stupid, not being able to say anything more explicit, but on the other hand, she wasn't really sure how to describe something that the human mind isn't remotely able to even begin to comprehend…to an eight-year old girl who never saw anything else than the towers of a big city.

'It's…beyond the sea. It's a place a lot of people would like to know, for sure…but it lets a lot of people down…'

She realized these words just came out, just like that, as if they came from the core of her being.

'…you didn't like it there?' Assia asked.

'What makes you say that?'

'Well I suppose you left for a reason, right?'

Liya took a few seconds to formulate her answer.

'No…no you're right. I didn't like it here.'

'Why? It was a bad place?'

'Oh no! No, far from it…'

Liya stared at the city for some time. Living in absolute light for so long, she had forgotten how beautiful the world could be with shades of grey.

'I guess it was too good for me, in the end…'

Assia just stared at her for a second, and asked:

'Will you take me there, sometime?'

Liya laughed.

'Trust me, you really don't want to know what it's like.'

'But you said it was near the sea.'

'That's not exactly…ok, yeah. So?'

'I never went to the sea…'

The two girls just looked at each other for some time.

'…me neither…' Liya finally said.

They just stayed there for a long time, without speaking, simply looking at the city lights shimmering before them like a myriad of fireflies.

'Liya?'

'Yeah, Kid?'

'What you're doing here…you'll be done soon, right?'

'…yeah.'

They paused.

'You're staying with me, right?'

No answer.

'…Liya?'

A beat. Then:

'When I'm done with what I have to do, we're leaving. The both of us. We'll go live near the sea. I'll teach you how to swim, I'll find you a good school…I'll be there with you.'

She put her hand on the kid's shoulder and puller her near her heart.

'I promise.'

When people say "Detective", what usually comes to mind is a guy like Sherlock Holmes (or Leroy Gibbs, if Baker Street's too old school for you…), solving crimes in three seconds while sitting on his couch and smoking a pipe (or anything else, for that matter).

I'm sorry to break your dreams, but if some of you wish to become detectives, there are a few aspects concerning fictional characters that one shouldn't overlook (well, there's only one, actually, but it's quite important): they are fictional characters.

Cause let's face it: the whole solving crimes in a 20-minute episode? That's just bullshit.

Being a detective requires A LOT of work (key word being "a lot"). It requires a lot of very specific knowledge concerning sciences, I.T. and laws, high-level observation skills, and most importantly, a huge resistance to sleep-deprivation because of the many hours spent researching things.

Sorry, but that's life.

That being said, it was 11:34 AM, which meant that Dante hadn't slept for at least 52 hours straight. Rubbing his eyes half-heartedly, he as trying to put some orders in his thoughts.

4PM the day prior, Mr Shades comes to his office, looking for assistance in his search for a few black stones and a Angel with issues with Paradiso. Then, a giant bone-monster comes in, wrecks a museum trying to get his phalanxes on one of the stones, and gets killed by yours truly. And that's where the problems start to appear…

Because that demon he destroyed the night before didn't own a bank account, but it did have a name.

Valefar, Duke of Hell, Lord of Thieves and Robbers…and a member of Musubi.

When the war between Heaven and Hell broke out a few millennia back, one could find, on both sides, some who didn't necessarily want to get slaughtered in Armageddon. As time went on, these conscientious objectors, both Angels and Demons, began to form a neutral faction in this war. Neither Warriors of Light, nor Soldiers of Darkness, they became pariahs, traitors condemned to oblivion, rejected by Heaven and Hell alike.

But with time, both Paradiso and Inferno began to think having a neutral faction roaming the universe was kind of embarrassing (I mean, seriously? You're either God Himself or the Lord of Hell, and you can't get your troops to fight and die for you? Preposterous!). And as usual when people of power perceive something as embarrassing, well…let's just say that, in a few millennia, Musubi went from a prosperous, peaceful group, to a decaying, bitter and vengeful squad. As of today, their philosophy had more to do with nihilism than anything else, with some members advocating the absolute destruction of both Heaven and Hell to put a definitive end to Armageddon (can't have nightmares if you never dream, after all…).

Good thing with the internet is that, even if a museum gets wrecked by a squad of demons (occupational hazard…), you still have the website. According to it, the stone taken by Liya had been discovered in a room of what used to be the Suspended Gardens of Babylon…

Dante kicked his desk violently, making the phone fly in the air before landing right in his hand. His dialed the numbers and waited a few seconds before a voice came through.

'Yep?'

'Hey Trish!'

'Oh wow! You don't call often! You miss me that much?'

'Well, if I say yes, you won't believe me, so I'll cut to the chase: which color are your underwear?'

She hung up. With a smirk, Dante called back.

In "normal circumstances", Dante and Trish could have been what the everyman calls a "couple". Instead, some sort of ambiguous bond began to bloom between the two, fluctuating between professional friendship and not-exactly-platonic attraction, with the occasional bed sharing. Dante had never really known what she thought of it. To be honest, he had never really tried to know. Maybe it was the job, or their personalities that were both very similar and very different at the same time, but he had never really tried to change things. Maybe things didn't really need to change.

…also, the fact that she looked exactly like a younger version of his mother didn't really help to create some real intimacy, either.

Trish let three rings pass before she picked up again.

'Don't tell me you miss me to the point that you get bored of your magazines?' she said in a sultry voice.

'Oh, I'm sure I can find a few interesting things on TV, but that's not why I call."

As Dante's partner at the Devil May Cry agency, Trish had a set of quite invaluable skills. Her combat abilities were top notch, and her talent at investigation had grown over time. But right now, Dante was far more interested in her deep knowledge of demonology. He drank one last sip of beer, threw the bottle in the trash, and asked:

'Does the name "Ereshkigal" ring any bell?'


	7. Regrets

Author's notes: Well, haven't posted in a while. The previous chapter was a bit on the contemplative side, but I wanted to take time to develop both my villains and my protagonist. Here, it's a bit more action packed. I gotta admit, writing actions sequences is tough, so I tried to make it as entertaining as possible.

Again, don't hesitate to leave reviews, that would greatly help!

REGRETS

Carver Tower was owned by some big, worldwide corporation specializing in what humans called "real estate", something related to housing or something. Nothing really important like trade or defense, but fancy enough to warrant a pretty impressive security system, and even its own private intervention squad…something secure enough, basically, to dissuade anyone from trying to break in, and it worked: in more than seven years since it was built, no one had ever tried to infiltrate Carver Tower.

Which is why people in the neighborhood were quite taken aback when, that night, the alarms of the building just kept blaring and waking every soul in a ten miles radius.

All security teams converged on the east 47th floor. On their way, the unconscious bodies of their teammates were laying on the floor. The radio had been broadcasting the same order for the last five minutes:

'Target's in the ancient art storage room! I want three men protecting each emergency exit!

That message had been repeated over and over, barely covering the sound of rifles and smoke grenades. When they reached the room, they could barely see one meter ahead.

'Thermal!'

The point man put on his thermal goggles and took a look inside the room.

'Seven men down. I still see four of ours active, but…but…what the hell IS that thing?!'

The four soldiers were shooting almost blindly, without thinking, trying desperately to hit that thing. He couldn't see what it was. Too fast. Too quick. It just seemed to appear and disappear randomly, like a fucking ghost. And suddenly, another man falls. And there's only three left.

'OK, WE'RE GOING IN! GO GO GO!'

The six soldiers sent as reinforcement entered the room, joining their comrades.

'What are we up against?!'

'Hell if I know!'

They keep searching, they keep shooting, almost gunning each other down at points. There was no cohesion, no control, it was just sheer panic. And another one down.

'DAMMIT, WHAT IS THAT THING?!'

A noise. Almost like a crack. All nine of them turn around at the same time.

There she was, standing still, her face devoid of expression. And a big, black rock in her hand.

Liya had been reckless. She took a quick look around at all the soldiers she had knocked out, and she couldn't deny that she had been reckless. To be honest, she knew that her level of caution had been slowly decreasing over the past month. When she had gone after the first stone, she had taken infinite precautions so as to not trigger any alarm or alert any guard. But as time went on, she had tended to go more and more straight to the point. Heck, last time, the bloody museum was left in ruins. And now? She had to fight a full-on army to get out.

She had been reckless. This night more than usual. But if she had to be honest with herself, she knew exactly why.

'PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! DON'T MOVE!'

She just stood there, looking almost impishly at the men surrounding her. And then, with a sigh, she summoned her spear.

'SHE'S ARMED!'

Every one of them started to shoot at the same time, emptying their rifles, filling the room with cordite and chaos. It was deafening, it was brutal. And it was beautiful.

She made her spear swirl around her like an azure wreath, with such speed and grace that her arms barely seemed to move at all. The bullets just hit this curtain of steel, leaving naught but mere flashes in the air. And then, silence. Sudden. Almost inadequate following the din and the uproar.

They were out of ammo.

So, calmly, naturally, the young woman made her weapon disappear. The next second, she ran to one of the soldiers, took him by the neck, and hurled him at another guard.

'RETREAT!'

By the time three of the soldiers got to cover behind one of the displays, she had taken out the remaining four.

'RELOAD!'

Quickly, methodically, trying not to listen to the screams and the sound of fractured bones, the last three soldiers emptied their guns, loaded fresh magazines, and bounced back into the fight.

The room was empty. The only people left were the unconscious guards on the floor. The girl was nowhere to be found.

'Where the hell is she?'

'I don't know…'

'Where the hell is that bitch?!'

'Hey, that's rude!'

'HOLY F…!'

By the time they turned around, Liya had grabbed one of them by the sleeve, hurling him against the wall. The last two raised their rifles, but she grabbed both weapon by the barrel and turned on herself, making them lose balance. Last thing they saw were both of her fists going straight to their jaws.

Finally, she turned to the soldier she had thrown to the wall and who was starting to get back up.

'…boo.'

He just ran away screaming.

'I don't like that plan.'

Although Ziz's voice trembled a little, the look she gave Mammon was completely unambiguous.

'How can you even think of doing something like that?!' she asked.

Mammon merely smirked.

'What can I say? Us devils are quite known for thinking outside the box. But it's true that your feather-heads kind have a bad opinion of lateral thinking.'

Ever since she became a member of Musubi, Ziz had absolutely hated Mammon. Dressed in an overly elegant three-piece suit, he had this annoying habit of combing his long black hair with his hand, as if he was constantly basking under the spotlight. His fawning voice and condescending smile were infuriating enough, but it was his eyes that most unsettled Ziz: pupils that just stayed fixed, like tiny points of blackness in the white of his eyes. It was as if they let in no light, no joy, no happiness.

These eyes just hated everything, everyone, all the time.

'She's just a child!' Ziz exclaimed.

'She's just human,' Mammon answered. 'And apparently, your fallen friend is close to getting her hands on the last fragment. Actions must be taken.'

'Well why don't YOU do it, then? It's your plan, why don't you take responsibility?! Or is it something demons are incapable of?!'

'Well, it just seemed to me like a more…feminine approach would be more adequate. It's not my fault if you're the only member of the fairer sex in that little congregation of ours.'

Ziz was fuming with anger.

'I'm not doing it!' she said. 'Maybe demons don't have principles but we…'

'HAHAHA! Principles?! These ridiculous chains you create for yourself? Tell me, young lady, do your pathetic qualms have more importance than the cause you swore to defend?

'SHUT UP! SHUT YOUR FILTHY…'

'Calm down, Ziz.'

Tarask had entered the room, his deep, commanding presence seeming to instantly soothe the atmosphere.

'Mammon? Leave us alone.'

Despite his smirk, Mammon silently obeyed. He was powerful, but even he knew better than to upset the red-haired giant.

'Who does he thing he is!' Ziz exclaimed, still visibly shaken by that exchange. 'He doesn't know anything about me, or Liya! How dare he…'

'He's just a demon, Ziz. Don't let him upset you.'

'He's a psychopath! You're a demon, that doesn't make you a complete monster like he is!'

Tarask just gave her a weak smile.

'I know it goes against your set of values, and I understand that you feel reluctant to do it.'

He put his hand on her shoulder.

'But Ziz, I now ask you to think about the alternative: what if we succeed? What if tonight we finally obtain the Key? What if tonight we put an end to millenniums of mindless suffering?'

She turned to face him, and suddenly, as her eyes met his, her face didn't seem so angry anymore. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder helped to calm her down.

'One last time, Ziz. One last, and it can all be over.'

There was a long silence, during which Tarask just listened to her breathing becoming more and more steady, until she finally said:

'…I won't let you down.'

There was no moon that night. It was one of those nights when the sky, covered with a thick layer of clouds, becomes nothing more than a vast, impenetrable sea of darkness, reaching far beyond the top of buildings. No star, no moon. And yet, as Liya stood there, the wind lashing across her face at the very top of Carver Tower, the pure, fresh air filling her lungs, never had the night seemed more beautiful to her.

She had been reckless. Had it been only three weeks ago, she wouldn't have had to fight through an entire army of highly trained human soldiers. She had been reckless, that night more so than before. But as she looked down the stone she was holding in her hand, a huge, thankful smile on her face, she knew exactly why.

It was done. Finally, it was done. All these efforts, all these risks, and tonight, finally, it was over. The euphoria of the moment made her dizzy, made her want to scream, to yell her relief out her lungs. This was the last of the stones. This was the last fragment of the Irkalla Key.

'POLICE! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!'

The deafening sound of the engine pulled her out of the moment, as the blinding light forced her to cover her eyes. A chopper had just come out of the blue, a neon flashlight pointed on her.

'…they're persistent, I give them that.'

Without missing a beat, Liya put the stone in her backpack and ran towards the edge of the building, quickly evading the fire of the turret mounted on the craft. She reached the edge, rushed forward…

'NOOO!'

The bullet grazed her. Just grazed her. She even felt the heat skimming over her hip. The bullet grazed her, but didn't hit her.

It hit her backpack.

All she could do now was watch as her bag fell some fifty-something floors below, in an unlit street, somewhere among the trash.

With the stone in it.

She got ready to dive when a there was deafening explosion over the roof. When she turned around to see what it was, she saw, but a bit too late, this missile heading straight for her.

'WE GOT HER!'

The pilot gazed upon the fire satisfyingly. Aside from the blaze, there was nothing to be seen on the roof of the building.

'Damn, I thought we'd never get her!'

The other soldier in the back of the chopper had a sigh of relief. He put the rocket launcher back on the wall, and went back to look at the flames. The black and thick cloud of smoke was rising up to the sky, covering the lights of the city below and the…

'…what's that?'

Some kind of giant bird was flying towards them. Was going to plow into them really. Taking his binoculars, the soldier tried to identify that thing getting dangerously close.

'OOOOH, FUCK ME!'

He dropped his binoculars, went back for his rocket launcher, armed…and didn't shoot.

Just before he fell from the chopper, he barely had the time to see the girl seize his pistol from his holster, and shoot at the pilot. Then, when he saw the ground, some 800 feet below, getting awfully close awfully fast, he just screamed.

'DAMN!'

The pilot had evaded the bullet at the last moment, but he didn't have time to feel relieved. When he saw his comrade fall to his death, he seized the control stick and pulled. It broke.

She hadn't aimed for him. She had aimed for the stick.

'Ooooooh craaaaAAAAAAAAAAAP!'

He yelled as the chopper began to spiral out of control, but then he felt a hand seize him by the collar and violently lift him out of the vehicle before dropping him unceremoniously. He closed his eye, but his fall only lasted a second. When he felt the solidity of the ground below him, he got up, slowly, almost expecting to phase through whatever solid thing he was on, and opened his eyes. He saw his chopper collide with the tower in front, his teammate lying on the ground unconscious, and standing still, her back on him, the young woman he thought had died in the explosion.

Coming to, he took his gun.

'I really wouldn't do that, if I were you.'

Turning to face him, Liya looked down on him scornfully. Despite the missile strike, she didn't even have a scratch.

'Put your hands in the air, or I swear…!'

'Ok, look, three things: one, you shot me with a fucking bazooka, and I'm still alive. So do you really think that little toy of yours is gonna hurt me in any way?'

The pilot didn't let go of his gun, but his hands tightened on the grip nervously. She didn't seem angry, or murderous. She just looked pissed. Very pissed.

'Secondly, in case you haven't noticed, I just saved your and your teammate's sorry arses from certain death, so you could at the very LEAST cut me some slack.'

Still not letting go of his gun. So, with a sigh, she simply said:

'And thirdly…'

And then she snapped her fingers. And then he let go of his gun when the grip had started to burn like boiling oil.

'A witch…' he said, completely stunned, looking at her with almost mystical fear. 'You're a fucking witch!'

The woman just laughed.

'I'm no bloody witch…' she said.

She walked to the edge of the building, turned one last time to face the pilot.

'…but you don't reach your 2508th birthday without learning a trick or two.'

And with that said, she dove into the city.

'Well that was tedious…'

Landing in the street, Liya summoned a ball of light in her hand. Despite the smell, she began to walk among the fuming sewer manholes and half-filled garbage cans. And then, on a pile of cardboard boxes, there was her bag. With a sigh of relief, she picked it up and looked into it to make sure the stone hadn't been damaged by the fall.

The shock left her breathless.

Stunned, the mouth agape, she could only stare in disbelief as she took out of her bag a very normal-looking red brick on which someone had written with a marker:

"Nice pull!'


	8. Double Cross

Author's notes: Wow, two chapters in less that a week! I'm on a roll, but I gotta admit, writing for a character like Dante is INSANELY refreshing. It gives a lot of freedom in both the tone and the style.

Once again, this chapter is low on action, but I'm preparing for something big next chapter. Hope you all enjoy, and again, please don't hesitate to leave a review.

DOUBLE CROSS

It will probably never happen to you, but imagine for a second that you have in your hands a thing capable of bringing upon the apocalypse, what would you do? Cause when I say "apocalypse", I mean "seriously the apocalypse". Like, the "streets full of corpses, sky black with ashes, forests and oceans vaporized, Paris in flames" kind of apocalypse. Imagine for a second that you have in your hands a thing, roughly the size of a kitchen book, capable of bringing upon the end of the world as we know it, what would you do?

That's not really the kind of questions you get asked at school (if you did, I'd like a word with your teachers…) but it was a question Dante found oddly interesting, in this very moment. Back at the Devil May Cry, lounging on his sofa, he just twirled in his hands the stone he had just stolen from Liya.

This so-called "stone" was actually a piece of some ancient weapon named Irkalla's Key. "Irkalla," that was the name ancient Sumerians gave to the Land of the Dead. The Key itself had been forged more than 2000 years ago, during the war between Heaven and Hell, in order to forever forbid access to Irkalla. Eventually, the sword was divided into three pieces and scattered around the world, and there were two possibilities as to why: either it was so that no one would ever again have access to this Sumerian version of Hell…or it was to prevent what was inside from ever coming out.

Getting back up with some difficulty (there were five or six bottles of beer laying on the floor…), Dante took some time to recap the situation. Liya was in possession of two fragments of the key, and just narrowly got her hands on the last. He had absolutely no idea why she wanted to gain access to this Sumerian underworld, but there were at least two groups of people who wanted to prevent her from doing so: Mr Shades and his employer, who had paid Dante a generous amount of money to stop her, and those guys from Musubi. Why did they want to stop her, he had no idea, but one thing was clear: Dante now had the last piece of the Key. And if she really wanted that bad to gain access to Irkalla, it was only a matter of time before Liya came to pay him a "friendly" visit.

Lazily scratching the back of his head, Dante took a look at his mostly clean and tidy office.

…Patty was gonna be soooooooooooo pissed.

Liya had been pissed at the pilot of the chopper for making her lose her backpack, but this was nothing in comparison to what she felt towards Dante at the moment. She had done it, she had managed to get every single piece of the Irkalla Key. Why did he have to snoop in at the very last moment? What the hell did he want?

She took a deep breath, tried to calm down. It was the frustration talking, she reasoned. It was only a minor setback. Dante had probably done some research about the stones, found out about its ability to open the doors to Irkalla, and wanted some explanation, that was all. But still, she felt empty, drained, as if part of her brain had been severed away. Right now, the perspectives she had briefly envisioned back there had completely vanished into thin air. She almost blamed herself for feeling so ecstatic, when she reached the top of Carver Tower. It's not as if her life so far hadn't taught about her goals evading her grasp at the very last second.

She would go to Dante, the next day, to explain her situation and get the stone back. There was no reason for Dante not to listen. Maybe even to help. Then, with a grunt, she realized that even she didn't believe her own train of thought. Right now, she just went home, too tired and drained to confront Dante.

'…what the?!'

She had just reached the door to her apartment. It was torn apart. She went in.

The entire flat was is complete shambles. The furniture had been taken down, the drawers emptied, the sofa ripped apart. For a moment she just stayed there, unable to move a muscle, unable to think. And then, it was a if a wildfire exploded in her mind.

'ASSIA!'

She went through each room, searched every corner, screaming, hoping begging to find the child. For a few, very long seconds, all she can hear are her own screams, her own heartbeats. But with each passing second, the pain in her chest becomes more intense, more searing. Finally, when her calls remain unanswered, when the truth finally settles in and the flames that burnt through her mind make way to the coldness of reality, the young woman leans against the wall and slowly slumps on the floor, unable to move, unable to think. The flat becomes unbearably silent, all of a sudden. Again, she shivers, but it's not excitement or frustration. It's not even anger, loneliness or despair.

It's fear. All she feels, as she presses her hands against her eyes, is cold, simple, unambiguous fear.

Assia was gone.

And someone had left a message.


	9. NDLR: Story on hold, explanation

First of all, I'd like to thank those of you who took time to read my fanfiction. It means a lot, and I hope you've enjoyed that beginning of story that I wrote. Unfortunately, as much as I tried to continue the story, right now, it is beyond my strengths. I can't continue.

You see, the character of Assia was named after a young girl I knew. Despite her young age, she was one of the bravest persons I had ever met, and her continuous struggle with depression was an inspiration to many, myself included. Unfortunately, this was a fight she couldn't win. Assia committed suicide two weeks ago.

As time went on, it became increasingly difficult for me to carry on writing. Ultimately, I realized it was something I couldn't do anymore. I can't write her character with her memory so fresh in my mind. That's why I decided to put my Devil May Cry fanfiction permanently on hold.

I wish to thank those of you who took time to read my first few chapters. I wish you all the best.


	10. No Return

Author's notes: Well. . . I'm back.

At some point, I had a lot of things to write, a lot of feelings to express, and I think it's a way for me to honor my young friend's memory. Plus, I did receive a very encouraging review, which gave me the boost I needed to go back to writing.

So it's not perfect, it's certainly no Literary Prize material, but I do my best to improve.

This chapter is kind of heavy on exposition, so I counterbalanced with an action scene afterwards. I'm starting to put in place a few story elements that will be important later.

And yes, the Blacksmith's name is no coincidence.

I really hope you enjoy. I do realize this chapter is a bit slow, but I intend to spice things up next chapter. Again, reviews and comments are highly appreciated. Thank you all for your commitment.

NO RETURN

'Devil May Cry?'

'Hi, hello…'

'Hi, good-bye.'

'…wait wha-?'

And he hung up. This conversation had occurred at least eight times, this evening. Eight clients, no password.

That was kind of the problem with opening a devil-hunting business. This kind of profession being relatively frowned upon in the world we live in, you can't just put an advertisement in the paper saying "Devil hunter seeks devils to hunt." Only a few informants like Morrison and Enzo Ferrino (although Enzo was working more for that witch with the stilettos, these days…) knew the real purpose of the Devil May Cry (DMC, for short). They were the ones who directed the potential clients to the agency and gave them the password to let Dante know that it was a serious job with a serious paycheck at the end. For the everyman (the guy who does the daily grind, pays his bills and watches Stephen Colbert every Saturday), the DMC was nothing more than a handyman gig. As such, there were a lot of people just calling for someone to walk Fido, to babysit little Billy or to buy a bottle of cyanide in order to get rid of an overbearing in-law. Since these "clients" weren't aware about the password thing, that took care of that. But after the eighth call without an actual job, Dante began to think that putting the DMC in the phone book wasn't such a good idea.

He took a look at his clock: 2:34 AM. Well at least a shower could sober him up a bit. He climbed the stairs up to the bathroom, closed the door and began to fumble the faucet (hot water, was it red or blue?)

VRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!

This basically was the sound he heard. Blinking rather stupidly, Dante tried to identify this rather ear-splitting noise.

It couldn't be the bathtub (otherwise, he would really have to call this Italian plumber whose name he always forgot), it wasn't the sound of a motorbike driving under his window, it wasn't…

'DANTE!'

That was a woman's voice. In hindsight, that noise he had heard was the sound of a door being smashed open. That couldn't be Trish, cause she was only coming home in two days, and Patty would NEVER have smashed the door open. That left only two people, and of these two people, only one had a valid reason for wrecking his front door (assuming of course a 6000$ gambling debt is NOT a valid reason…).

So, getting out of the bathroom, Dante just went down the stairs and said:

'…seriously, don't they teach you to just KNOCK, up there in Paradise?'

Liya was there, her breathing shallow, her eyes on fire and spear in the hand, standing on what once was his front door.

'I would offer you a drink, but my coffee machine needs repair so…'

'Cut the crap, Dante! I need the stone, now!'

He didn't fail to notice the slight echo in her voice. That plus the aura that was starting to emanate from her, he knew she was barely holding control.

'Look, seriously, what are you even gonna do with that piece of rock?' Dante asked nonchalantly. 'What, you want to put it on a necklace or something?'

'I don't have time to explain! Assia's been taken, and I need…'

'Or do you really miss good old Nergal so much?'

She paused. He had said that very flatly, but with a deliberate, inquisitive smile on his face. They just stared at each other for a few seconds. Then she blinked.

Of course, he knew. It was only a matter of time anyway.

Dante took a slight pleasure from that sign of defeat on her part. Clearing his throat, he continued.

'A long time ago, long before the Armageddon even occurred, Irkalla, the Sumerian Realm of the Dead, was given to the Goddess Ereshkigal. Her role was both to welcome the dead in her kingdom, but also to breathe new life into the world. Then, one day, the desert demon Nergal overtook the Kingdom and sent Ereshkigal into exile. As such, to prevent this new demon king to come visit little old Earth, the Irkalla Key was forged by Heaven itself to seal this realm for all eternity. When the Armageddon took place a few millenniums afterwards, the key was broken into three fragments during the conflict. God knows what happened to these three pieces afterwards.'

His history lesson over, he turned to face Liya, a terrifying coldness in his eyes.

'And then, 2000 years after the War between Heaven and Hell, a Fallen Angel comes out of nowhere, destroys a few places along the way, and starts seeking these stones. MEANWHILE, the Musubi sect, who's notorious for wanting the complete and absolute end of the world, tries to stop said angel to get the stones themselves. So tell me, Liya: what's your interest in freeing Nergal?'

For a moment, they just stood there, face to face, eyes deadlocked into each other.

'…you did your homework.'

With a light sound, her spear vanished from her hands.

'I won't deny knowing about the legend of Ereshkigal, but I have no interest, either in Nergal, nor in Irkalla. I never did. Right now, Musubi has two of the three pieces of the key, and they took hostage a little human girl. If we don't get the stone to them, she will be killed, Dante!'

'And we shall do anything possible to save her of course, but you still haven't answered my question, Miss: why look for these stones in the first place?'

Her eyes were fidgeting. For some reason, this question seemed to embarrass her. She took a deep breath and said:

'You know about the Blacksmith's Oath, right?'

'Of course! A little trick used during Armageddon to guarantee Heaven's and Hell's arsenals: a blacksmith can only be defeated by one of his own weapons.'

'Yeah, that's it.'

'So?'

She seemed to hesitate, then finally said:

'So the key to Irkalla was forged by an Angel named Rodin. He was, without a doubt, the best blacksmith in Paradise. He was even one of the Infinite Ones.'

'God's personal bodyguards?'

'An elite group of angels placed directly under the authority of Metatron himself. Only a few warriors were considered worthy enough to wield his weapons.'

In spite of the few beers that were still using his brain as a punching bag, Dante was starting to see where this was going.

'So that's why you wanted the key…you wanted to kill Rodin.'

'No, Rodin died nearly twenty years ago...'

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then she finally admitted:

'...I'm here to kill his son.'

Beat. Dante's eyes just fluttered in the distance for a few seconds, as if he had skipped a wagon at some point.

'...sorry what?'

'I'm here to kill his son. Rodin's son.'

It seemed as if a veil of melancholy covered her face for a second. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and added:

'His name is Amali.'

Dante slowly nodded, giving the information some time to reach his brain.

'The Master of Musubi...' he said.

'He's been in control of the organization for nearly a decade, now,' Liya continued. 'Under his guidance, they have become more and more extreme. Before he took over, Musubi was a sanctuary for those who wanted to escape the Great War. For a very long time, they had remained hidden. But today, Amali wants to use the Brotherhood of Musubi to break the balance of power between Chaos and Order. He wants to become the third force in the Eternal War.'

'And so you wish to get him out of the equation?'

'As Rodin's son, Amali can only be killed by a weapon forged by his father. Irkalla's Key is the last of Rodin's swords still in existence. The rest of them have been destroyed nearly 20 years ago.'

If working as a detective had taught Dante anything (aside from living on caffeine 24/7), it was to beware of situations that seemed too clear to be true. Cause when it happens, it usually means that there's a crack in the story, somewhere.

Case in point...

'Not bad...'

Liya shivered. She couldn't help but notice the touch of irony in Dante's voice.

'Gotta admit, you almost got me. Nice story, really. Except for one, tiny detail.'

The devil hunter's eyes were terrifyingly cold, as if he was merely watching an insect stuck on a slate. Despite the unpleasant sensation of being put under an x-ray scanner, Liya did her best effort not to blink.

'Angels have no right to procreate. Creation is a priviledge only He can have. Any Angel who breaks that rule is guilty of Hubris.'

Three sentences. Pronounced with no grandiloquence, no self-congratulation. Merely the exposition of some general knowledge. And yet, though Dante couldn't tell if it was the light or just the after-effects of the alcohol, he was pretty sure he saw a shadow, a barely noticeable wave of discomfort on Liya's face. There was no doubt that Liya didn't expect Dante to know so much about Divine Laws.

'I run a Devil Hunting Agency, that requires a lick of culture, you know?'

Liya head just fell, as if she was desperately trying to find something to retort.

'Dante...' she said, her voice overwhelmed with confusion. 'It's far more complicated than you think...Amali...'

'OK, look, cause here's how I see the situation: On the one hand, I've got an object that can obliterate the world in the blink of an eye, and on the other hand, I got a Fallen Angel who swears to me she won't do anything bad with it, except killing the non-existant progenity of yet another Angel. So unless you got anything to back up your claims, I think I'm gonna keep the stone and take care of Musubi myself!'

'Dante, please listen!'

'Unless of course there's another reason for you to want Amali dead? That wouldn't be the first time you hide things from me!'

'Dante, enough!'

'C'mon! Why don't you tell me what Paradise promised you in return for his death? Absolution? VIP access back to Heavens?'

'You really don't trust me, don't you?!'

He did not answer. He did not have to answer. The scorn, the contempt, the pure disdain in his gaze was eloquent enough. She just sighed. She had no choice. No time. With a slight jingling, she summoned her spear back in her hand.

'Very well...at least it will make things easier for me.'

She seemed cold. Huddled up, quivering, Assia was just looking around her, at the vast marble room and the hard wooden chairs. Silently. Merely sobbing from time to time. She seemed so small, sitting in her corner, terrified. Watching her all alone in the dark, like that...it made Ziz feel profoundly shameful.

Silently, she entered the room, a basket of fruits in her arms.

'I...I brought you some food,' she said. 'Thought you might be hungry.'

Assia just huddled up further in her corner.

'...you must feel cold.'

Ziz took off her scarf and put it around the child's arms. This small act of kindness seemed to bring Assia to speak.

'Why am I here?'

'Do not fear, my child. We won't hurt you.'

'Who are you?'

Ziz just made a weak laugh.

'I don't think you'd believe me if I told you...'

'I want to see Liya...'

These words seemed to touch Ziz on some level. After a second of hesitation, she merely said:

'Liya's coming, child. I promise.'

'How sentimental...'

Ziz repressed the urge to snarl when Mammon entered the room. He was accompanied by Tarask.

'You know I haven't been this...choked up since I got a hunk of tofu caught in my throat!' Mammon said pompously.

'Give it a rest, Mammon.' Tarask said.

'Oh please! Tarask, old friend! Show me a little smile! What could possibly happen now? Do you fear our wingless friend will prove to be such a hassle?'

'Don't underestimate her!' Ziz intervened. 'She was one of the Infinite Ones.'

This just made Mammon laugh.

'Are your trying to tell me that one of Paradise's Elite Soldiers got exiled from the Skies Above? Do you take me for a fool?'

'None can claim to have never made mistakes, Mammon.'

The voice that had just spoken was young, and still there was something almost metallic in its intonation, as if its owner wasn't used to speaking very often.

Amali was around 20, but the expression on his face was reminiscent of an old man. His black, curly hair were falling on both side of his face, and he was walking slowly, almost limping on his left leg. Yet, the moment he came into the room, everyone else seemed to freeze.

'Do not forget,' he said, 'that most of the demons locked up in Hell used to be angels. The Almighty can be quite ruthless, when he wants to.'

'My Lord,' Tarask said, his hand waving towards Assia, 'this is the child. Ziz was highly successful in her mission.'

'I didn't expect any less of you, Ziz. You have my thanks.'

The young lady stood up, and took the two stones she stole from Liya's flat.

'These are the remaining fragments of the key,' she said. 'Soon, the last piece will be in our possession.'

'Excellent,' Amali said. 'Soon, we will finally have the complete set to reforge the Key of Irkalla. It is now only a matter of hours before we can achieve the Creation.'

Dante made a quick count: his drums, his desk, two windows, his couch, his juke box ('No, wait…I broke that one.') were in pieces. Were left standing and in an acceptably undamaged state the lamp, the mirror and the telly. Good thing Morrison only came to visit in two-week time, his heart might have stopped from the shock.

Liya was twirling her spear with great strength, her hits raining upon Dante like a storm. Put against the Son of Sparda, she had to keep the initiative. Let him have the advantage for just one second, and it wall all over. So she struck, relentlessly, without hesitation, without pause, without paying attention to the growing fatigue that was slowing her muscles down.

'You're good!' Dante said. 'Even that demon from last night was less fun than you!'

He was merely keeping his Royal Guard up, knowing that, sooner or later, the fight would end on its own. She had already infiltrated Carver Towers earlier in the evening, so she clearly didn't come to his office at maximum capacity. He could already see the growing exertion each of her attacks demanded. She wouldn't be able to keep up that way. She knew it. She had to finish this. Quick.

She focused the energy in her spear and sent a wave of light to her opponent. Not powerful enough to end the fight in one stroke, but at least enough to unbalance him. Dante barely had time to deviate the attack with his blade, sending the shockwave crashing into his mirror.

'Oh, COME ON! That's seven years of bad luck!'

'You wanna see bad luck?!'

Seizing the opportunity, Liya jumped forward, readying her spear.

It took her a few seconds to get a grip on herself. It took even longer to register the pain when her jaw came into contact with Dante's boot. It took even longer yet to notice she had dropped her weapon.

'Well! I think we're done here, aren't we?'

Dante was still standing, fresh as a daisy, the blade of his sword on his shoulder.

'Look, you're gonna exhaust yourself to death if you keep this up. Let's call this a draw, shall we?'

Liya barely managed to get back up, shaking, her vision clouded by her weariness.

And she ran up to her adversary.

'Poor girl…'

What she was going to try only had one chance in a million to succeed. She wouldn't even try it in a regular fight. But this was no regular fight, and she was running out of options anyway.

She started to summon an energy sphere in her left hand. Dante raised his sword in a defensive position and readied himself to repel the assault.

He smiled.

Of course, there are much nicer ways to please people, but he had to admit, that was perfectly executed. That's the kind of moments that just brighten your day, make you say 'What a wonderful world' with violins in the background. He had to admit, she had totally caught him off-guard.

When she was running to him, he had expected some final, last-chance attack in which she'd focus all the energy she had left. But he should have noticed. That detail. In retrospect, he couldn't believe he missed something that important.

…her left hand.

Because she didn't go for his blade. She went for his forearm. More out of surprise than out of pain, he had dropped his blade.

He had to admit, she didn't hesitate one bit. She had done this with a decisiveness, a precision that bordered on the surgical. In one second, she had seized his sword, landed behind him, and thrust the blade in his back.

When he turned around to face her, blood erupting from his wound like a scarlet cascade, he felt kinda proud of her. She was still out of breath, she was still barely standing, but the fire in her eyes was radiant, powerful. They stayed there for a few seconds, eyes locked into each other's. Then, in one last breath, Dante whispered:

'…yeah, that was fun.'


	11. REUNION

Author's notes: Ok, so here we are. This one, and the one after it, are the most difficult chapters I had to write so far. I really wanted them to be perfect, I really wanted them not to feel forced, or artificial, or cheap. I truly wanted to convey all these emotions in a convincing, or at the very least correct way. I did my best, now I have to hope my best was enough.

Once again, feel free to leave a review or a comment. I would greatly help.

REUNION

South End. From what she heard, it used to be something between a big village and a small town. A calm, prosperous little hamlet of a few hundred souls. Then, with some economic growth, the town grew further to the north, with many infrastructures and worker houses being built. In time, Redgrave City was born, leaving the original town, the South End, mostly abandoned.

There was something vaguely scary about all these forsaken houses. It felt as if some calamity had suddenly sucked all living thing out the town, merely leaving behind creaking wood and dusty streets.

Health services had been relocated uptown, leaving the former hospital completely abandoned. There had been, at some point, some demolition plans, but only the east wing had been destroyed. The rest was still standing. When she reached the front door of the hospital, Liya took a deep breath to put some order in her thoughts.

The assault on Carver Tower, her duel with Dante, everything that had happened that night had left her considerably weary. She wouldn't last long if a confrontation broke out. So what she needed to do was save time. She could try to locate the other stones, but they would probably be heavily guarded. At any rate, right now, it wasn't the stones that worried her most.

There was a croak. A raven had just landed on the entrance top. They knew she was coming. So, her hand tightly squeezing the stone in her hand, she walked to the door. It opened almost instantly.

'Welcome, Liya. We were waiting for you.'

The street was absolutely charming. The beautiful little poppies hanging from the windows perfectly complemented the candy-pink shades of the sky. He was happily strutting around, enjoying the beautiful nocturnal sun, when the bell rang twenty-six times. This was when this funny bearded dwarf came to him.

'Oh my goodness, it's Papa Smurf!'

'I am not Papa Smurf! I am a happy goblin! And you are kindly invited to the country of happy goblins to…'

'C'MON! WAKE UP IN THERE!'

'WHOUAOUCH!

That kick in the abs pulled him out of his reveries.

'OOOOoooooh…' Dante moaned. 'What the hell…'

When finally he came to, he was still laying on the floor, with a migraine like he had drunk a barrel of whiskey.

'Ok, so I don't know what you drank, I don't know what you smoked, but seriously, Patty is gonna pissed as hell, when she sees this!'

Lady was used to seeing the DMC in shambles. Usually, when he had nothing to work on, Dante always found something to break. His desk, his couch, a window…last time she came, the pool table had been sliced in two, one half miserably laying on the floor, the other hanging on the wall (don't ask…). We never found the balls, after that.

So when she saw the building in ruins, the furniture in pieces, and Dante wallowing in a pool of his own blood, she didn't even raise an eyebrow.

'…I had a weird dream, just now…I think I was in one of Patty's drawings, and Happy Smurf wanted to sell me some LSD or something like that…'

'Yeah, yeah, and then you took the red pill and woke up outside the Matrix, sure! So, what happened?'

'Hey hold on, will ya? Still got a freaking headache, here…'

He took his time to get back up. That's when he noticed he still got his sword protruding from his chest.

'Mind taking this out, for me?'

'That's becoming a habit!' Lady said. 'Seriously, how many times have you been impaled by your own sword? Six? Seven?'

'Five…'

'Ballpark.'

She grabbed the hilt (of the sword…) and pulled without restraint.

'WHOUAIE! HEY, CAREFUL!'

'YEAH WELL NEXT TIME, DON'T GET IMPALED!'

He stumbled around a bit, found what was left of his couch and collapsed on it, his hand reaching for one of the few bottles that survived the massacre.

'Ok, seriously though, what happened?'

'Hold on…need a little pick-me-up…'

'Alcohol? Bad idea! You should drink water!'

'Alcohol's closer…'

He uncapped the bottle, drank a few gulps, and said:

'She's got the stone…'

'The angel? Yeah, I think I came to that conclusion. What do we do now?'

'I still think she's not the most important problem… you got what I asked for?'

'Here.'

She took a file from her bag hand handed it to Dante.

'That guy is considered highly dangerous. Got a hard time getting my hands on his file.'

'Send me the bill.'

'On your salary? Yeah, right!'

Dante wanted to retort something clever, but since nothing clever came to his mind, he just opened the Amali case.

When she saw Liya walk through the entrance hall, Ziz expected to see anger, maybe even hatred on her face.

There was nothing. Her face remained blank. She was walking slowly, deliberately, her eyes deadlocked into hers. When Liya stopped, just a few steps from her, Ziz just blinked. She couldn't stand the gaze she was giving her.

'…you got the stone?'

Liya did not answer. She merely took the stone from her bag and showed it to her.

'…follow me.'

Ziz walked to the lift. She could almost feel Liya's gaze on the back of her neck. As they went down to the underground levels, Liya remained silent, her eyes obstinately locked onto the metal door. Unable to endure this silence any longer, Ziz just sayed:

'I'm sorry.'

'I know.'

That's all Liya answered. She said this in a very neutral tone, neither reassuring, nor vindictive. She didn't even turn to face Ziz.

'I should have stopped him…' Ziz said. 'It all happened so fast…I didn't realize what was happening…I just…'

'Ziz.'

It was only when she felt Liya's hand on her shoulder that she mustered the courage to face her. Her expression wasn't blank anymore, but there was no hatred, no resentment in her eyes. There was only compassion, kindness, maybe even a bit of relief.

'It wasn't your fault, Ziz.' Liya said in a whisper. 'I know you did all you could. There was nothing forcing you to take this responsibility, and I am grateful, so grateful that you did.'

Strangely, these words did nothing to appease Ziz's soul.

'…how is she?' Liya asked.

'She's ok. Don't worry.'

A beat.

'…thank you, my friend.'

Ziz shuddered when she heard those words. 'My friend.' Two simple words, but which both warmed and pierced her heart. Two words she hadn't heard in such a long time, and that she wasn't even sure to be worthy of hearing again.

The lift stopped. Liya wiped her face with her hands, more as a way to put order in her mind, then the doors opened.

The room was ornately decorated, with a large, marble table in the center, surrounded by black leather chairs. On the other side of the table, Amali stood up, his face radiant with joy.

'Hey kid…'

Liya was relieved to see her voice didn't tremble. With a large smile on his face, his eyes beaming with happiness, Amali said:

'Hello, Mother.'

As he walked to her, Liya felt a storm of emotions swirling inside of her. To her weariness, her anxiety, her apprehension after leaving the DMC, there came in addition a shade of sorrow, perhaps even anger.

He was there, walking towards her. He wasn't bald like his father, and his cheeks were less thin, but there was Rodin's feline grace, his natural poise in the way he walked. As he passed near the candles, she noticed the shade of grey in his eyes.

He had her eyes. That was a small detail that just made her heart contract painfully.

He stopped a few centimeters from her, staring at her with growing feverishness, like a child recognizing himself in the mirror for the first time. She didn't move a muscle. Or rather, she realized she couldn't move a muscle. She felt completely paralyzed, as if her body was transfixed by that moment. Slowly, anxiously, he raised his hand, as if afraid to see his mother vanish in a puff of smoke. Then he felt her hand caressing his, and gently pushing it against her cheek. She shuddered, closed her eyes. Without realizing it, without even knowing what was happening, her throat choked, her entrails tightly constrained, she felt Amali embracing her.

'Mother…'

Yes, she was angry. Angry to have been separated from her own blood, angry to have been denied the right to watch his grow, to be by his side, to raise him…Angry to see her son a man, whereas last she saw him, last she cradled him, he was but an infant.

She was angry at all that lost time.

When finally she opened her eyes, they were wet.

'I've hoped for this moment,' he said. 'For so long.'

She wanted to smile at him, the same way he was beaming at her.

'So have I, Amali.' She said. 'So have I.'

She had no strength to smile, anymore.


	12. Creation

Author's notes: took me some time to publish that one, I got sick over the past week (bloody winter…). Anyway, I really needed this one to be as perfect as possible. I know nothing can be perfect, but I really waited until I found it as satisfactory as possible before publishing it. I truly hope you enjoy, cause I put a lot of emotions in that one.

Reviews and comments are highly appreciated, as always.

CONCEPTIO

A man and a woman were walking on the main street of South End, all alone amidst the creeking wooden houses, the wind blowing over their long leather trech-coats. Mechanically, the woman took out her gun and shoved a full magazine in the hilt, the sound of metal almost a whisper in the gusts. The man turned to the woman and, with a deep, raspy voice, said:

'Funny, but the place reminds me of that ending scene in _John Wick_...'

'1 or 2?'

'...there's been a 2?'

Few minutes later, Dante and Lady landed in front of what used to be the South End hospital.

'Ok, let's recap!' Dante said. 'How's the evac going?'

'Morrison has a few well-placed friends in the city council. They'll pretend the whole thing was a magnitude 7 earthquake.'

'An earthquake? In the US? They think the people will believe that?'

'They believed in Roswell.'

'...point taken.'

'Anyway, I got a text from Trish. City's mostly empty right now, but she'll do a second swoop to make sure.'

'Ok then! Best case scenario, I prevent Nergal's resurrection, the evac was for nothing, we say sorry and that's that.'

'Worst case scenario?'

'Well, Nergal comes back but at the very least, he's got no people to kill. That leaves us some time to find a way to kill him before he finds a new town to wreck.'

Given Dante's eagerness on his face, that option didn't seem too unpleasant.

'Well I should go,' Lady said. 'If Nergal does escape, you can be sure he's not coming alone. Trish and I will have to do some crowd control.'

'Be careful out there, yeah?'

She stared blankly at him.

'Are you worrying about me?'

'You still have that Mad Max bluray of mine!'

'Should have known...'

She didn't remember sitting in one of the chairs that surrounded the long marble table. She didn't remember drinking water from the half-empty glass she was holding in her hand. Everything that had happen from the moment she had entered the building was vague, confused, as if she was watching the scene from some faraway place.

'I know I caused you a lot of trouble, recently. I hope you'll forgive me.'

Amali was sitting in front of her, his voice trembling with emotion. She couldn't find anything to answer. Words didn't seem enough to convey what she was feeling.

'I was a bit scared about meeting you, you know?' he said. 'We've...never really known each other, after all. Given what happened to you...'

Tentatively, he extended his hand to her. Without thinking, without hesitating, as if this move had been engrained in her brain her entire life, she took his hand in hers. He smiled.

'I'm so glad...' he said. 'So glad that you're here tonight. So glad you're here to see what we'll do.'

'Amali...'

It was a strange feeling for the young man. Hearing his mother pronounce his name. It felt warm. It was like hearing a long forgotten tune again.

'What is it, that you'll do?'

He had a slight recoil. His mother's face was unreadable, but her tone, the ever so slight coldness in her voice took him by surprise. Though he bounced right back up.

'Mother...I'm gonna end the war!'

'How?'

'By redoing the Creation!'

He stood up, far too excited to stay in his chair.

'We'll use the Key that Father made to open the gates to Irkalla! There, we will syphon the powers of Death itself! With this power, we'll put an end to the old order! The long war that opposed Heaven and Hell for millenias will end thanks to us!'

The way he moved, the way he spoke, he looked like a painter showing his finest work to a leyman. His entire body seemed possessed by the flow of his words.

'With this power, we shall rival the Gods themselves! We'll put an end to their belligerent reign and create a new world, free from the conflicts of old!'

'So that's it, then...?'

Amali felt his excitement fall like a deflating balloon. He had expected to see pride, even perhaps gratefulness on his mother's face.

'You wish to become an enemy of both Heaven and Hell? To be cast out by both Light and Darkness?'

There was only sadness.

'Amali, if you become an enemy of both Paradise and the Underworld, the resulting conflict could mean the end of existence itself...'

'Exactly! The end of existence! Followed by rebirth, without the sins of the old world!'

He wasn't looking at her anymore. He seemed completely lost in his vision, enamored with his own sense of purpose.

'Since the dawn of time, only one order was forced upon the world: God's order! And it only created resentment and chaos! God's control transforms people into puppets filled with hatred and fear! When we recreate the world, we shall not make the same mistakes as He did! True order can only be choosen! Choice shall remain in the hands of the livings, as it should always have been! This is what we...'

'Stop.'

She hadn't been able to refrain herself. This word had come out of her mouth without even realizing, but she couldn't hear anymore. She couldn't bear to hear anymore. She even regretted to have heard so much, wishing she could cleanse her soul from her son's words, his dark obsessions, his dreams of destruction…

'…please stop.'

These had ripped her heart apart.

Watching his mother's afflicted expression, Amali felt his world crumble under his feet. It was as if the room itself was starting to ooze confusion.

'Mother, what's going on? Is it something I…'

'Amali, please…just let it go.'

Silence. As if the world itself had lost its voice. Then:

'…what?'

'Please…we are together now. We can be together now. Live together. We don't have to fight anymore, don't you see? Please…walk away from all this. If something bad were to happen…'

'But nothing bad will happen! Nothing can happen! We'll create a world where no one would have to hide anymore! A world where we'll be free!'

'Don't you see? We already are! We're on earth, in the human world! We can now live however we want, think however we want! Forget about Paradise and Hell! We don't have to waste the time we have fighting!'

She almost regretted saying those words when she saw her son's face. The euphoria she could see on it a few seconds ago had suddenly, completely vanished. All she could see in his eyes right now was the reflection of the candlelight.

'…forget?'

His voice had gone one key lower. He stood up, extremely slowly, a red haze slowly clouding his mind.

'Forget? You're siding with them?!'

'No, I…'

'Did you forget? Did you forget what they did to you?! To the both of us?!'

'I haven't, but I…'

'How can you ask me something like that! I about to create a brand new world! A universe rid of both the sins of Inferno, and the restrictions of Paradiso!'

He raised his hand towards her.

'A universe in which a Mother would never be sent to Hell for having given birth to a child!'

She received these words like a slap in the face. She knew what she was trying to prove, but she couldn't help but feel angry at him for reopening this particular wound.

'Amali, you can't…'

'YES I CAN! Or do you think He was right?! You were one of the Infinite Ones, one of His most beloved, most valiant warriors! And how did He reward you?! He killed the Angel you loved! Tore away one of your wings and sent you to be tortured and humiliated in Hell! And you dare tell me He didn't destroy our lives?! You dare tell me He was right to tear us apart?!'

'I am as angry as you are, Amali! But we can walk away from all this! What would vengeance bring us beside even more pain!'

'ENOUGH!'

His voice echoed throughout the room for what seemed to be an eternity. When that echo finally reached his ears, Amali realized that the voice that had come out of his throat wasn't his own. It was lower, darker. There was an edge, a viscous feel to it, as if it was coming from the depths, from the blazing fires of his heart. He realized he was still standing, alone, in front of his mother, and saw the fear and confusion on her face. He suddenly felt shameful, very young, and very stupid at this moment.

'Mother…' he managed to stammer. 'Mother, we both feel very confused, at the moment, but you will see things my way, eventually. I know it. I know you will understand why I do all of this.'

She had no answer. She merely looked at her son with a mixture of pity…and guilt.

'You must have brought the stone, haven't you? We'll complete the key, and once we're done you'll see that…'

'Where's Assia?'

'…sorry?'

Once more, there was this slight inquisitive coldness in her voice.

'That was the deal, right? The child for the stone.'

He didn't say anything. He didn't even move, but his gaze got significantly harsher. Without a word, he turned to the back of the room and, with a wave of his hand, the row of curtains raised themselves.

There was an altar of white marble, and on it, lying asleep on a sheet of red fabric, there was Assia.

Liya blamed herself. When she saw the young child's inanimate body, she hadn't been able to refrain herself from standing up. This move, she knew it, had given Amali the upper hand. She knew it, and she knew he knew it too, for he said:

'Put the stone on the table in front of you, please. Then you can join her.'

She hated was he was doing. Standing up had been enough to demonstrate her attachment to the little girl. An attachment which, at this precise moment, robbed her of any control on the situation.

'You need to stop this now…' she said. 'Before it goes too far.'

'I have nothing to lose, Mother. Never had. The stone, please.'

There was no way out. Nothing she could do. She put the stone on the table and walked to the altar. Assia seemed peaceful in her sleep, her chest rising and falling slowly and regularly. Liya took her hand in hers. It was cold, but at its contact, Liya felt a bit more relaxed, felt some of her weariness disappear. It was strange feeling any sort of relief, given how dire her situation had become.

'Mammon! Ziz! Tarask!'

Upon being summoned by their master, the three disciples appeared in the room, emerging, ghostlike, from the shadows. Mammon and Tarask each were carrying one of the fragments of the key. Amali took the last one and walked to his followers.

With a subtle whir, the three stones rose to the air, as if carried by invisible hands. They started to twirl, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until a bright flash of light filled room. The light was such that most of the people present covered the eyes. Not Amali. He made a conscious effort to keep his eyes wide open, to savor the moment to the fullest.

When the light dissipated, the Key, a long, black claymore with a curved blade, was floating a few feet above ground, in its full glory.

'Finally! The door to Irkalla will fall. We shall take control over Death itself, and the Two Kingdoms shall crumble before us!'

'I still don't understand how we're going to open access to a Sumerian dimension here in the US…', Ziz asked.

Tarask gave her the answer:

'Each faith may be different, Ziz, but all of them find their origins in the same phenomena. The Nordic Niflheim is comparable to Avalon from the Arthurian legends, the Fall from Eden is similar to the Promethean myth. And so on. In many ways, He is everywhere, humans just give Him different names befitting of their respective cultures.'

'So how do we open the gates to Irkalla, then?'

All of them turned to Amali, eagerly expecting his answer.

'Human sacrifice.'

Liya didn't hear those words. Not really. What they meant, what they implied was far too great for her to immediately understand. Slowly, she turned her eyes to the four members of Musubi.

They were all staring at Assia.

'No…no you can't!'

'Master!'

Ziz's expression had completely changed.

'Master!' she said. 'You can't possibly mean…'

'We need an untarnished soul to use as a filter to syphon Nergal's powers. The human child's soul is the most obvious choice to…'

There was a slight jingle, and a fierce fire lit up Amali's eyes.

Liya had just summoned her spear.

'I won't let you!' she said. 'No one's hurting her, you hear?!'

Amali's fist clenched the hilt of the Key, his fingers becoming white under the pressure.

'Why the hell do you try to protect her?!' he shouted. 'She's just a human!'

'And you don't have to make humanity pay for what Paradise did to you! Humans are not lesser, not disposable!'

'WHY DO YOU PROTECT HER?! I AM YOUR CHILD! SHE'S NOT!'

'Amali…'

His traits hardened through his fury, through his rage. Any physical similarity with Rodin had vanished from his face. His whole being, in this very moment, was oozing with bitterness. Seeing her son in this state was just pure agony for Liya.

'It's my fault…' she said, her voice trembling with an insidious feeling of powerlessness. 'I should have been by your side…I should have saved you…'

'YOU DON'T HAVE TO SAVE ME! I WILL WIN THE WAR! I WILL SAVE THE WORLD!'

'Amali, please! You will save nothing by destroying the world…'

'ENOUGH!'

There was no more reflection in his eyes. A cloud of shadow seemed to cover his pupils. His lips rolled up on his teeth like a horrible grin.

'You were supposed to be on my side! You were supposed to understand!'

He raised the Key menacingly.

'I will make you understand! You will not stand in my way!'

'Yeah, I said that to the border police once…didn't end well.'

'…wait, what?'

Amali turned around in an instant, as if struck by lightning. Suddenly, Liya's heart skipped a bit, and she felt a tinge of hope fill her mind.

Only one person could say something that stupid in such a situation

'The only conclusion I can come up to,' Dante said, pointing his gun at Amali. 'This man, is CRAZY!'

He then pointed his gun at Mammon.

'This guy here? DEFINITELY CRAZY!'

Then at Ziz.

'I feel kinda bad for the girl here in the corner, but there's a decent chance…SHE'S CRAZY TOO!'

And then he pointed his gun at his own skull.

'Nothing matters anymore…maybe I'M CRAZY!'

Amali glared at Mammon.

'You said he was out of commission!'

'Well…well I thought…'

'YOU THOUGHT! You don't THINK with a guy like him! You don't make MISTAKES with a guy like him!'

'I'll handle him!'

Tarask walked up to Dante, summoning a giant axe in his hands.

'The man who vanquished Mundus himself…' he said. 'This should be interesting.'

'Not as interesting as your apparent BMI, buddy!'

Dante unsheathed Rebellion, loaded Ebony and Ivory and shouted:

'Well, sorry for the delay folks, but now that we're all here, I officially declare the Crazy People Convention…OPEN!'

And without any further ado, he lunged at Tarask.

As the odds had brusquely turned against him, Amali decided not to lose anymore time.

'Enough talk, Mother! Now get out of my way or AOUF!'

He found himself thrown to the floor, the key falling from his hands.

'ZIZ! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!'

The young woman had bounded on her master to pin him down.

'What I should have done years ago.'

'MASTER!'

Seeing his comrade's betrayal, Mammon summoned a long, sharp rapier in his hand. Seeing him getting dangerously close to Ziz, Liya bounded in the air and sent her foot right in his jaw.

'Ziz!'

'On it!'

Ziz made a flaming scythe appear in her hands before lunging at Mammon. Liya, for her part, drew nearer to her son.

'It's over, Amali! Tell them to surrender!'

Furious, enraged at being betrayed by his disciple and his own blood, Amali picked up the key and he lunged screaming at his mother.

'I've been planning for this day for YEARS! NO ONE WILL STOP ME!'

That's how they were, at this moment. Reeling, slashing, the din of the steel deafening them, covering the screams of their own minds. The storms that were coveting in their own souls translated as a swirl of blade and destruction around them, and with each strike, with each shock in her arms as she parried, blocked and struck-back, Liya could feel her own soul tear itself apart a little more, breaking away like a cracked mirror. She was fighting her own son, her own blood, the one person she had longed to see for the longest time, whom she was supposed to love and protect above all.

That was not how it was supposed to happen.

'Traitor!'

Mammon barely avoided one of Ziz's attacks, giving him enough time to black the next strike.

'So you finally reveal your true intentions! When did you decide to turn against us?!'

Ziz did not answer. She knew him well. She knew he would try to distract her, to throw her off balance with his barb. He kept pushing, his sword describing complex and highly technical movements.

The problem with scythes is the reduced mobility it gives their users. Being primarily an offensive weapon, they don't usually allow for strong protective positions. Mammon knew it, and with his attacks raining on her like a storm, Ziz rapidly understood that she wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. She needed a small advantage.

'AAAAAARGH!'

He backed off so fast he actually fell to the floor. His left arm felt as if it had been ran through with a multitude of knife. When he looked down on it, it was completely frozen.

'YOU BITCH! You betray us for WHAT?! A fucking HUMAN CHILD?!'

He didn't sound like an elegant dandy anymore. If she was to be honest, Ziz was even surprised he knew such florid vocabulary.

'Angels don't kill without reason!' she said. 'Especially not children!'

She raised her blade and struck her opponent with all her might. Mammon managed to block the attack, but Ziz pushed him back until his back crashed into the wall.

'You don't kill without reason, you say? Lucky me…'

Suddenly, he turned around, seized one of the candles from the candelabrums, and threw it in her eyes. And then he throws his rapier right in her chest.

'That's one advantage for me!'

It happened so fast, it took her several seconds to register the pain, as if her thought process was unfolding on slow-motion. The pain was cold. Then searing. Then unbearable.

The scream only lasted for a second, but to Liya it felt like eons. As if seconds were turning into hours, hours into years. For a moment, she doesn't feel the shock in her arm when her blade hits her son's, she doesn't feel Amali's breath when he raises his sword, the smell of iron in the air that makes her slightly dizzy.

For a moment, all she hears, all she can register, is that scream, intense and loud. And she briefly shivers when she realizes her friend has just fallen.

The fight goes on, the battle continues, but Liya's edge, her focus, her determinations are suddenly dulled. In her mind, the faces of Ziz and Assia seem to blend with the vision of the Key falling on her guard. Without realizing it, Liya had lost the advantage.

That's all Amali needed.

One fell stroke, a sidestep, and it was done. She can feel herself falling to the floor, even though she's unharmed. But it doesn't matter. Not anymore. What she sees next seems to burn her very eyes. She wants to look away, to close her eyes, to stop herself from bearing witness to that scene, but she can't.

Powerless, stunned and aghast, she can only watch as the great, black sword dives into the child's heart.

She can't even think anymore. There are no words. Nothing.

Just the Apocalypse.


	13. Destruction

Author's notes: It's been a while…

To be honest, I'm not even sure if it's relevant to come back after all this time. DMC5 came out, played the hell out of it, loved every second of it…and I admit, I got caught up in my work, and obligations, etc…but I really, really wanted to complete this.

So, here we are again, five months later. I actually wrote a lot, in between, so I hope I'll get to finish the story soon.

Hope you enjoy. At the time, this chapter gave me a lot of hard work.

DESTRUCTION

 _Darkness is a gift._

 _Most humans fear the dark because they fear what lurks in it, but those who know, who truly know, realize that there is nothing to fear from obscurity. Darkness is protective. Darkness is warm. It's the sweet embrace of the dream realm, the beauty that rests, unsuspected, in the deepest corners of our subconscious. And while the light reveals to us the truth of the world, the darkness gives us the freedom to imagine it._

 _The true gift of Darkness is creation._

Disaster movies (you know, like _Geostorm_ or _Deep Water_ ) are usually aptly named: they are actual disasters (seriously, don't come and tell me _Day After Tomorrow_ was a good flick). Dante was one of the people who thought that the people directing those movies should go back to Filmmaking 101, though at the moment, he himself had to admit, those guys were pretty good at predicting what the actual Apocalypse would look like. For instance, that building in front of him was looking nicely like the one in _Terminator 6_ , whereas that crumbling bridge reminded him of one of the _Die Hard_ movies.

Nergal's return had left quite some marks.

'Well at least that takes care of my pizza debt…'

His phone rang. To be fair, he quite surprised to see that there were still phone companies doing business on Judgement Day. He picked up.

'So, how are things?'

On the other side of the line, he could hear Morrison's deep and raspy baritone voice.

'Last count, we only have 26 MIA and less than a dozen dead people. Lots of wounded, but frankly, given what just happened, having so few casualties is a goddamn miracle.'

'You want me to find a church that's still standing to light a candle to your health?'

'My health's not the most pressing matter right now, old friend. Trish just landed. She and Lady are taking care of security around the place, making sure the demons don't get too near our survivors. But I do hope you got a plan to get rid of a freaking Death God who just nuked an entire city.'

'Working on it…though I do have someone here telling me it's not impossible. I'll be in touch, old man.'

Dante hung up his phone and turned around. Ziz was there, sitting on the floor, slumped on the wall, her hand still clutching that wound on her side. Blood was still pouring abundantly between her fingers.

'You don't look so good,' Dante said.

She made a joyless chuckle.

'Not an ounce of pity in your body, is there?' she asked.

'Nah, tried it before. Didn't go with my kidneys.'

He knelt next to her.

'Anyway, you knew this was going to happen, didn't you?'

She didn't say no.

'He wanted to kill the child…'

'Well, actually he did, if the ruins around us are any indication.'

'It was my fault…'

'Oh no…you just bet on the wrong horse, is all. I myself once put 500 grands on a flush, and my opponent got a full-house…worst day of my life…'

'It was my fault…'

'Broken record much?'

'Liya…after I joined Musubi, she was the only one who didn't turn her back on me. Even after, she treated me as…a friend…'

This word had taken a sour taste in her mouth, like rusted iron under the tongue.

'After she was exiled, I promised I would take care of Amali…Paradise was hunting for him…I hid him away, raised him…and here we are…'

Dante couldn't tell if her fading voice was due to guilt or blood loss.

'It was my fault,' she repeated.

'It was nobody's fault, if you ask me,' Dante answered. 'No matter what you teach them, people will always decide for themselves what they want to become."

Ziz blinked for a second. Dante's voice was unusually soft, deprived of its usual snarky intonations.

'Amali chose what he became. True, karma was pretty harsh on him, but his reaction to that? That's who he is. There's nothing you could have done to change that. You can't blame yourself for that.'

He was surprised by how comforting he sounded. Briefly, the image of a blue-clad, silver-haired young man flashed before his eyes.

'We all have someone we wish we could have helped better…', he finally said.

Ziz raised toward him an understanding look.

'Even you?' she asked.

'We all do.'

For a long time, there was no sound anymore. Ziz was looking at Dante's face, this face that, under the bright sunlight, suddenly seemed strangely familiar, like an acquaintance you finally see again after a long time. So, letting go of her wound, letting her blood flow unrestrained, she picked something in her pocket.

'…you'll need this.'

She gave Dante one of the Key's fragments.

'Now that Nergal is free, the Key is divided again.'

'Like in Dragon Ball?'

'…if it helps you…my brethren will do everything they can prevent its reconstruction. I managed to get that one, but the other two will be with them.'

'In Irkalla?'

'Yes. If Amali wishes to steal Nergal's powers, he will need to reach the Death Throne. That's where he'll manage to syphon Nergal's powers.'

'And how do we stop him?'

'You heard him, didn't you? For the power transfer to take place, he'll need a pure, simple soul…'

'The kid's soul?'

'Yes…'

Beat. Then:

'Ziz?'

'Yeah?'

'I'll tell her you're sorry.'

'Thank you.'

That is how she died, at peace with herself, and that is the memory of the Son of Sparda she took with her in death, in this moment when he didn't laugh or make fun of her, in this moment when he was there in her last moments.

The room was like frozen in time under the pale light of day filtering through the busted roof. There was absolutely no sound. Silence itself seemed to echo through the ruins. She was cold. It was the first thing that came to her mind. She expected breathing would make her cough, that the atmosphere would burn up her lungs. It wasn't the case. The air was fresh. She took a deep breath, exhaled, again and again. And with each breath came another memory, like a nightmare you start to remember bit by bit.

There was nothing around her but destruction. Nothing lived, nothing moved. It was as if the world itself had stopped revolving. Slowly, she stood up and started to walk, silently, ghost-like among the rubbles. And then, after a few minutes, she stopped.

The young girl's body was there, peaceful, immaculate, as if an invisible barrier had protected it from the surrounding dust. In spite of the fallen rocks all over the place, the child's face bore no wound, no scratch. There was only this deep, dark wound on her chest. Liya knelt next to the young child's body and gently drew her head to her breast. For a moment she hoped, quite naively, to hear something, a whisper, a heartbeat. There was nothing. Deep down, she knew it would be the case, but when this last, tiny hope was taken away from her, she felt her heart contracting painfully in her chest.

That was the moment she realized she had lost everything.

'Well, what a day…'

She didn't even turn around when Dante burst into the place.

'Wha, you still there? Thought you might have already gone after crazy guy and his goonies!'

His voice seemed unacceptably loud, seemed to pierce her skull like a white-hot knife. She desperately wanted not to hear him, to remain here, untouched, in the intimacy of the surrounding silence.

'Well, far from me to rub salt here, but you did make a bloody mess…'

'Leave me…'

'I mean, after all, you did promise you wouldn't do any mischief with those stones, amiright?'

'Dante, go away…'

'To think Patty had just cleaned up my office…I think she'll be pissed at you when she sees what you…'

'LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!'

She couldn't hold it anymore. It was as if a volcano had just burst open inside her very soul, devastating every thought, scorching her, killing her from within. Too many things had happened, too many things had been lost, in too little time. Through the flames of her own suffering, her own guilt, her own fury…

Liya burst into tears.

'I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY! ASSIA, FORGIVE ME!'

She felt completely crushed, ravaged by her own pain, by this hurricane of emotions screaming inside of her. Tears were trickling from her eyes, but the pain didn't stop. There was nothing that could make the pain stop.

Dante was looking at her, but he no longer had this snarky smile on his face.

'Liya…are you…crying?'

'IT'S ALL MY FAULT! I SHOULD HAVE SAVED HER! I should have…'

She couldn't finish her sentence. She was cradling the child's body with the feverishness, the restlessness of a madwoman, as if she was trying to breath life back into Assia's body. Dante just looked at her, silently. She looked like she had just gone through a millennium of affliction, and still, her sobs echoed through the stones like a soothing, wistful melody. He felt like her tears brought a bit of warmth, of life to the surrounding darkness. When again he spoke, his voice was neither mocking not vindictive.

'She knows that you fought for her. She knows that you did everything in your power to save her. She may be gone now but from where she is now, I know she doesn't blame you for anything.'

It took Liya a few seconds to fully digest those words. She recognized Dante's voice, and still, it felt different. There was something now in his voice that seemed to appease her pain, to soothe the wounds of her soul.

'If you loved her, Liya, if you truly loved her, then you know what to do next. You know what she would have wanted you to do.'

When once more she raised her eyes to him, she couldn't repress of gasp of surprise.

Dante was smiling. But it wasn't his usual smile. It wasn't that cynical smile he took to put off his clients, or that insane smile he showed during a fight. It was a genuine, friendly, honest smile.

'D…Dante?'

So, the Devil Hunter extended his hand to the Angel.

'C'mon, Miss. Let's save that kid of yours!'


	14. Chapter 14

Author's notes: Told you it would go fast.

The previous chapter was a pain to write. As mentioned before, the character of Assia was based on a young girl that I dearly loved. Her suicide was a terrible blow for me. It took me a while to come back to writing after that, and even then, I had to rethink a lot of my story. Previous chapter was basically me trying to put all of my pain and anger into words.

In this chapter, I try to develop my bad guys a bit. From the start, it was important for me that they were not fundamentally evil. Just misguided or convinced of their own righteousness. Hope you enjoy and, as always, if you do, leave a review.

POWER

 _Darkness is a gift._

 _The gift of sleep. The peace of slumber. The dream realm in which nothing can touch you, nothing can affect you. Everything that hurts you, everything that wounds you during the day? They can't reach you when you abandon yourself to the sweet embrace of the night. The Light reveals the world to you in all its violence and injustice. But Darkness? Darkness only brings nothingness._

 _The great gift of Darkness is oblivion._

The sun was shining bright, in spite of the recent cataclysm. The heat under the tents that had been put in place for the survivors had become unbearable. Liya was staring blankly at these rows of makeshift shelters, at the people coming and going from one tent to another.

She didn't see them. Not really. It was as if there was some invisible barrier between her and the rest of the world. She barely noticed the wind blowing through her hair, the rays of the sun on her face. It was as if she was locked up inside her own head, deprived of sound, of air, of anything. Right now, she couldn't feel anything anymore. Or rather, all she felt were but whispers, amputated echoes of what she used to feel. All she could feel, all she could perceive with acute precision at the moment, was a deep, searing sense of loss.

'There! Here it is!'

Inside the tent, Trish took out a huge grimoire from one of her luggage. Judging from the dust covering it, she hadn't read it in quite some time.

'Too bad no one ever had the idea to put those online…', Dante remarked.

'Seriously? You'd want demonology compendiums to be put online?'

'Why not? You do have websites selling bombs, and whatnots.'

'Precisely! You think terrorists around the world don't have enough toys as it is?'

Trish glanced at the tent's entrance.

'She ok?' she asked, nodding at Liya.

'She's in shock. Trust me, she'll feel a lot better once you show her that book of yours. Liya, I think you should come!'

The young lady vaguely turned around. She didn't want to talk to people. She didn't want to be around people, for that matter. Every time she was with someone, she wanted to go away. Every time she was alone, she craved company. Without a word, she came in.

'Ok, so…' Trish said. 'Let's start with the good news: Nergal CAN be killed.'

'Good!' Dante said. 'How?'

'Ok, so here's the thing. The sacrifice they made had two goals: one, to break open access to Irkalla. It's unfortunately frequent to have to shed blood in order to open doors to other dimensions, if you remember the Temen-ni-Gru.'

'Good times!'

'Second goal: if Amali wants to make Nergal's powers his, he'll have to reach the Death Throne in Irkalla. That's the source of the God of Death's powers.'

'So he'll get his power right from the source.'

'Exactly, but he'll need something to act as a catalyst to bypass the energy. Right now, Nergal is still the main recipient of the Throne's powers, so Amali will have to circumvent the energy flow to become the new recipient. It will take time, but he'll need to be in contact with the Throne, and he'll need to use something to redirect the energy.'

'And that something being…'

'Yeah: the kid's soul.'

'Hold on…'

That was the first time Liya actually said a word since leaving the rubbles of the hospital. Trish's words were echoing in her head, bouncing over the sides of her brain.

'Hold on, does that mean…' she said, almost in a whisper. 'If he still is in possession of Assia's soul, does that mean…'

'Well yep: if you manage to get your hands on it, I will be able to put it back in her body. It's a complicated spell, but I've done it before.'

'…we can save her?'

Liya felt overwhelmed by a very strange feeling, far remote from anger and sorrow. For a moment, she felt completely astounded, stunned, dismayed. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. This piece of information, coming after so much pain, so much sadness. It was too…adequate. Too good. And yet, the relief she felt was beyond anything she had ever felt before.

'See?' Dante said. 'Told you we'd save that kid of yours!'

Without realizing it, carried away by this sudden surge of renewed hope, Liya just smiled. Heavy tears were running down her face, but she just smiled. She didn't think she would ever be able to feel such joy anymore.

'So,' Dante said. 'If we take back Assia's soul, we save her and we cut Amali from his powers, right?'

'Basically, yeah.'

'And then we can kill Nergal?' Liya asked.

'Yeah', Trish answered. 'But the thing is…'

'I hope you're ready, Miss!' Dante said. 'We go after Nergal, it's gonna be a fight to the death!...literally…'

Liya couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

'You're always THAT eager to go fight an all-powerful Death God?'

'Only if the "All-Powerful" part is not false advertising,' he answered with his usual cheek.

And then she laughed. They were silly, his jokes, even a bit ridiculous, but in moments like this, his enthusiasm was genuinely uplifting. After all she went through over the past few hours, she couldn't help but find his attitude comforting in some way.

He went through his pocket, and took out the fragment of the Key.

'You'll need this', he said. 'Ziz managed to get her hands on it before the others ran away. She also said she was sorry.'

Liya couldn't repress an ever so slight shiver when she took the stone in her hands. Her heart tightened a bit when she realized how much she owed Ziz. Ziz who had taken care of Amali throughout his entire life, Ziz who had died for Assia…

'…I've lost far too many people, lately.'

Another person she had failed to protect. Dante put his hand on her shoulder.

'It will end soon', he said compassionately. 'It's just one last chore to take care of.'

When she met his eyes again, he was glad to see the determination in her gaze.

'Yeah,' she said, her voice more resolute than ever.

'Go get your stuff!' he then said. 'We leave in ten!'

So, with renewed confidence and a grateful smile, she turned to Trish.

'Thank you, Trish. For everything!'

Trish merely nodded, and Liya left the tent.

'…you do realize you'll have to tell her at some point, right?'

'I know', Dante said.

'Cause, if things go South here with Nergal, you'll technically be the only one to stand a chance in a straight duel, so…'

'It wasn't the time.'

Dante's face was deadly serious, in that moment.

'If we play things well, she won't have to know anything. But right now, I need her fighting spirit to be top-notch.'

Trish's expression was dubious at best.

'I hope you now what you're doing…' she said.

As Tarask reached the top of the great white stairs, he took some time to gaze upon the somber beauty of the land around him. There was something strangely serene about Irkalla, about it's bright, misty horizon. The air smelt different too. It didn't smell like death, though. More like a mixture of ashes and old wood, both frightening and comforting. Even the silence was different, if that even made sense. There was no sound, and yet, he could feel a presence surrounding him, almost like an echo.

'Ziz would have loved it, here…' he thought.

The Throne was a large, round marble platform, covered in beautiful arabesques. The bright, immaculate floor seemed quite out of place with the surrounding landscape. It almost looked as if the structure was floating in nothingness.

Amali was there, on the edge of the circle, as if mesmerized by the world around him. He was holding something in his hands. A small, shiny ball of light, glimmering softly in the darkness.

'You loved her, didn't you?'

Tarask looked up, a bit surprised by his Master's question.

'Ziz,' Amali continued. 'You loved her. Even though you're a demon, you grew to feel some attachment to her, didn't you?'

Tarask kept a straight face. Centuries of existence had taught him that controlled emotions were powerful emotions.

'She was my apprentice,' he answered. 'She was good.'

Amali made a light chuckle.

'Ever the stoic, I see…I've always admired that, with you.'

He paused.

'…how do you do it, Tarask? After being betrayed by the one you loved most, the one you cared about most, how do you remain so calm?'

Tarask didn't say anything. Not yet. He knew there were things Amali had to say out loud.

'All my life, I have waited for this moment, Tarask. I hoped for it, I dreaded it…every night, I was trying to imagine how it would unfold. I imagined my Mother, radiant, grateful, hopeful. I imagined her pride at my assault on the Two Kingdoms.'

He turned around, and as Tarask saw his face, he felt his heart contract painfully in his chest for a moment.

There was nothing on his face, but pain, bitterness, and anger.

'It wasn't supposed to end like this!'

He looked at the ball of light between his hands.

'Look at this, Tarask! The human's soul! So tiny, so weak…how could my Mother come to care about something this worthless! Every time I look at it, I have to fight the urge to crush it between my fingers! To scatter it to the winds of Irkalla! What did that girl had that I don't?!'

Sensing that his master was awfully close to destroying the one thing that could syphon Nergal's powers, Tarask finally decided to talk:

'You're right. I did love Ziz. I never had children of my own, and she was probably the closest thing I ever had to a daughter. I showed her the ropes, shaped her into the proud warrior she eventually became. And she decided to use that knowledge I passed on to her against us.'

Amali was astounded at the calm Tarask displayed when describing his closest friend's betrayal.

'How can you not be furious at that?!' he asked.

'Why would I be? She made her choice. I made mine.'

Gently, almost gracefully in spite of his imposing frame, Tarask walked right next to Amali.

'You perceive your Mother's refusal to aid you as a personal attack, as a dismissal of your very existence. But that isn't true. Your Mother loves you, whether you realize it or not. Now, you have to accept that, no matter how right you think you are, your vision for the future is nothing more than a point of view. One that I embrace, and that I'm willing to see fulfilled, but a point of view nonetheless. And that other people might not share your desires and aspirations.'

'So you're saying that I've been wrong all this time? That I spent the last fifteen years working towards an illusion?!'

'I am saying that it's not a question of love. It's a question of will. The great changes in the world have always been accomplished by people of great will. You are one of these people. What you are about to accomplish is going to shape the face of the universe for the eons to come, for better or worse.'

Tarask made a gesture to put his hand on Amali's shoulder, but refrained himself. Even after all this time, it was hard to forget Amali was still just a child.

'Now, you have to decide which you value most, my Master: Love, or Will.'

He turned around, made a few step, and added:

'And if you pick the later, whether your will is stronger than your Mother's.'

And he left, leaving Amali slightly bewildered.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's note: Have you noticed that DMC5 is the only game in the series not to contain a silly riddle? Anyway, I couldn't help myself. Same thing for the fourth wall break (I don't know why, I always saw Dante as the 4th wall breaking type, even though he never did so in any game).

For a few chapters, I've started writing some short poem thingies at the start of my stuff. That will become important later on.

Anyway, leave a review if you like it.

CHOICE

 _Darkness is a gift._

 _Because, in the end, even though you won't admit it, Darkness is what you crave: Nothingness. Silence. Eternal peace._

 _Darkness is what comes at the end of the fight, no matter who the victor is. It is the numbness in your soul that makes everything more tolerable, it's the rest you get at the end of each day. The rest you wish could last forever but never does. It is the promise that nothing bad will ever happen, the childish fantasy every living being secretly years for._

 _In the end, every heart coms back to the Darkness whence it came._

The first thing Liya noticed was the sky. It almost looked like one of these abstract human paintings, with its pale blue, purple curls of mist. It just seemed unreal, like a theatre set slowly moving above their heads. There was no wind, though. It felt as if the whole land was asleep, spirited away by this strangely soothing darkness. The ground was dry, arid. With each step, she could feel the harshness under her soles.

It was a most barebone world, revealed in its utmost simplicity. A world that had been born but never grew.

'So that's Irkalla…' she said, mostly to herself.

'Yeah…not the ideal place for sunbathing, right?'

Here they both were, alone in the middle of this deserted land.

'Well, at the very least,' Dante said while looking around, 'finding a Death Throne in this place shouldn't be too much of a hassle…hey, think that's it, over there?'

There was a faint, barely visible glimmer on the horizon, pulsing gently like a wisp.

'Only one way to find out…' Liya said.

Without further ado, without even glancing at Dante, she started to walk.

'Well you look eager to go!'

'I just want to get Assia's soul back ASAP.'

'I see.'

They walked in silence for quite some time.

'You seem quite attached to the kid, aren't you?'

She didn't answer immediately. She seemed to be carefully picking her words, for a moment.

'I met her the day I landed on this town, two weeks before I met you at the museum. I found her shoplifting food from a grocery. I don't know why but…I took her defense.'

Maybe it was just the color of the sky, but it seemed to Dante that, the more she talked, the more relaxed her face looked. It was as if her exhaustion was being washed away with each word, like water being poured on her head. Having a goal gain seemed to grant her renewed strength.

'I soon learnt that she had escaped from some orphanage in the West End. From one day to the next, she had become homeless, having to survive in this huge city…I don't know, I think I felt the urge to make her lot less painful.'

'Just as yours would have been less painful had you not had Amali?'

She stopped to think for a moment, then shook her head.

'Just as mine would have been less painful had I been there for him.'

'You don't regret it, then?' Dante asked.

'Giving birth to him? No.'

She had responded immediately, this time, as if the answer was written within her very soul, like ink on paper.

'No, not in the slightest.'

For some reason, this put a satisfied smile on Dante's face.

'Good!' he said.

This just made Liya stop in her track.

'… "good"?' she said. '…that's it?'

'…well, what did you expect me to say?'

'I don't know! I was half expecting some snarky comeback, or a silly pun, at that point…'

'There's no need for that. I'm just glad you finally admitted it to yourself.'

This remark definitely made Liya pause.

'…admitted what?'

'Ever since Nergal came back, you keep saying it was your fault, that you should have done more to stay with your son, stop him from doing this, protect Assia or Ziz, and so on and so forth…but what you didn't seem to realize, is that from the beginning, in spite of everything that kept happening to you…you just kept doing the right thing.'

Liya was quite taken aback by Dante's speech. These words felt odd coming from a goofball such as him.

'Most people I know would have just given up in front of the shitstorm that you went through. Or gone mad and decided to blow it all up, like your son. But you? You keep trying to make things right. You keep giving it your all. You could have chosen to run away and hide in a corner, but you didn't.'

He gave her a knowing smile.

'Only those who do nothing never fail. So I don't know if my opinion is worth anything, but in my eyes? You got nothing to regret.'

For a moment, she just didn't know what to answer. It had been long since anyone had praised her like that, she wasn't even sure how to feel about it.

'That makes me sound a lot better than I really am…' she eventually said.

'Things like that always do, Miss. Trust me, I'm a connaisseur.'

There was a short silence. Then a smile.

'…so you do get serious, from time to time after all, huh?' she asked.

'Hey c'mon! I was trying to be heartfelt here! Don't ruin the moment!'

'Yeah, let US handle that.'

'…huh?'

The moment they realized where the voice came from, a powerful shockwave sent the both of them tumbling to the ground. Liya barely managed to land safely, and looked up.

'The Master predicted you would manage to enter Irkalla', Tarask said, his scarlet mane burning in the dark, his massive sword resting on his shoulder.

'Oh that wasn't hard!' Dante answered. 'That Death God of yours kinda let a massive whole in the ground when he woke up!'

Liya had already summoned her spear, ready to fight.

'Where's Amali?! Tell me or I make you regret coming here!'

'Oh I shall tell you. But first…'

He raised his broadsword, took a deep breath, and smashed it to the ground with all of his strength, creating a massive crack that opened right up to Dante's feet.

'…goddamn gravity.'

'DANTE!'

Unable to try anything to get away, the Devil Hunter fell into the abyss, disappearing in the void. Liya tried to dive to save him, but the crack closed almost instantaneously.

'Do not worry about him,' Tarask said. 'Mammon shall take care of him.'

Liya glared defiantly at her adversary.

'You think someone as pathetic stands a chance against the Son of Sparda?!'

'Depends on the challenge Mammon has in store…just like you.'

Tarask took a few steps towards his opponent, observing her with a tinge of curiosity.

'Ziz had great respect for you, Fallen Angel', he said. 'She always praised your strength and you combat prowess.'

Liya just kept her blade raised, waiting for incoming assault.

'She was my greatest student. She was destined to a brilliant future as a member of Musubi…and then she died.'

Liya was still waiting for the giant to attack, but she couldn't help but notice that his voice was getting surprisingly high-pitched for someone this size.

'She died renouncing the very cause she had sworn to defend. She died fighting her own comrads, her own Master, whom she had served for 20 years. She died for you!'

Suddenly, his eyes took a distinct red hue, and his body began to grow, taller and taller, so much so that he eventually had to stand on all four. Tusks emerged from his mouth and a thin layer of dark fur began to cover his skin. Liya naively thought that he looked like a big warthog.

'You had the respect and devotion of my apprentice! Now show me why her loyalty to you was so great! Prove to me she didn't die for nothing!'

And so, in the silence of the Kingdom of the Dead, Tarask charged headfirst into battle.

If he had to be completely honest, Dante didn't think of himself as someone stupid. Being a detective, after all, requires an I.Q. slightly above that of the average grunt. He could, for instance, have a perfectly interesting and deep conversation with most of his urinal neighbors, or solve any political issue while taking a shower. All in all, Dante objectively thought of himself as someone decently smart.

…and yet the one thing he was thinking at the moment was: 'Why the hell is there always a stupid riddle in these things?!'

Mammon was floating in front of him, a mocking grin on his face. In front of him, there was a black velvet box, a bottle of wine, a candle and a box a matches, and a book.

'…so let me get this straight,' Dante said. 'You put the fragment of the Key inside the box.'

'And you can have it, yes! Absolutely!' Mammon said gleefully. 'So long as you perform one certain action under 15 seconds…'

Dante took a quick look at the other objects: the bottle of wine was a Cheval Blanc 1947 (why is it that the bad guys are always so fond of French stuff, anyway?) the candle was red and there was only one match left in the box, and the book was _Philosophy in the Bedroom_ by Marquis de Sade (oh…that's why…), 1795 edition.

'…and that action being?'

Mammon just laughed emphatically.

'Oh, dear Son of Sparda, you don't actually expect me to tell you?'

'Well then how the hell am I supposed to know what to do with all your fancy-shmancy stuff there?!'

'You're not! But just let me tell you, my friend: there's absolutely nothing you can do to solve this riddle! Hahahaha!'

Dante's finger became itchy. Usually, he hated it when someone had a bigger mouth than his.

'I could always put a bullet in your head and take the box for myself now, could I?' he said, pointing Ivory at Mammon's forehead.

'You could!' Mammon answered, unfazed. 'But then you wouldn't be able to open the box and access the stone, and we both know you need it!'

With a smirk, Mammon added:

'Then again, did you tell your angel friend WHY you need it? Or did you keep this for yourself?'

Dante didn't answer, merely taking his attention back to the various objects in front of him.

'So if I do the action you require under 15 seconds, the box opens, and I take the stone?'

'Exactly!'

'And then I kill you?'

'Exactly! But again, there's absolutely nothing you can do to solve it this problem!'

Dante thought for a moment, put his gun back in the holster, and said:

'Ok, "Tail-coat"! Start the countdown!'

Despite the pressure she was applying to her arm, blood was still pouring from Liya's shoulder. Shivering, a knee to the ground, she was having a hard time trying to catch her breath. Tarask's strength was enormous. She couldn't even hope to block his assault, merely evading it, and she was slowly but surely starting to run out of energy. The good news was, Tarask himself didn't seem to fare any better.

The beast's body was covered in slashes, so much so that his fur was now blood red. He was barely standing on his four legs, and his breath was so heavy that the dust flew from the ground. Clutching her spear in her hand, Liya slowly got on her feet, her gaze dead locked on her opponent. Though he was wounded, Tarask was much more resistant than she was. If she was to defeat him, she had to wait for an opening, for him to make a mistake.

She lunged at the beast and stroke with all of her strength, but with a swift movement of the head, Tarask blocked the assault with his tusks and delivered a headbutt right into her chest. It took the breath out of her, but she did manage to rip through the air with her blade. Tarask wailed horribly as Liya crashed miserably on the floor. He just lost one eye.

They both stayed there for a long time, slumping on the arid ground of the Underworld, the Angel sucking up deep gulps of air, the Demon moaning in pain.

In one last desperate attempt, Tarask stood up and charged, hoping to impale Liya on his tusks. He rushed straight to her, ready to finish the fight…and then she vanished.

He ran for quite some time before he actually felt the pain. It had been too sharp, too searing for his brain to actually register, but when he felt it, it burnt through his mind. He made a long howl and collapsed to the floor.

When she took out his eye, she had created a blind-spot in his vision. As such, when she had rolled out of the way to evade his final assault, he was completely unable to see her. She had used this weakness to slash his tendon. As the beast lay to the ground panting, she turned around, leaped into the air.

And it was over. Once more, the earth fell silent. Tarask himself had not screamed this time, merely convulsed. There was a spasm, two maybe. And it was over.

Liya removed her spear from the beast's heart.

'Ziz was right…'

Bathing in his own blood, Tarask barely managed to speak with all the blood pouring from its muzzle. In spite of the heat, the violence of the battle, Liya saw something in his eyes that resembled relief.

'If Ziz was right…then helping you…was her destiny. She died…because she had fulfilled her role. I shall respect that…'

Suddenly, in a flash of light that tore through the surrounding darkness, Tarask summoned a fragment of the Key. Liya just stood there for a moment, watching the old artefact floating before her eyes, merely grazing it with her fingers.

'…why?' she asked.

Despite the pain of her own wounds, she felt a surge of compassion for the Beast. Compassion…and also respect, perhaps.

'You…you don't belong to either of the Two Kingdoms anymore,' he said. 'You, and the Master…you both walk outside the boundaries of Creation…a world that I cannot know.'

His eyes were getting blurrier with each word, but still, his powerful voice was resonating on the vast, desolate plains.

'…you go face him. I will watch you from above…'

He endured a few more seconds, and then he was still. He didn't move, he didn't breathe. Those had been his last words. With a deference that surprised herself, Liya put her hand on the bloody forehead of the beast. This had been Tarask's last battle.

'Well that was tedious…'

She didn't even start when she heard Dante's voice coming from behind her. She took one last moment to pay her respect to the warrior she had just faced, and then she stood up.

If she was a bloody, disheveled mess, she was surprised, and a bit jealous, to see Dante fresh as a daisy.

'You defeated Mammon?' she asked.

'Oh, I wouldn't say "defeated"… he threw silly riddle at me, and if I solved it, I could get the stone. I don't know why, Capcom always puts a stupid riddle in these things…'

'…who's Capcom?'

'…nah, forget about it.'

'But what happened to Mammon, then?'

'Oh…'

Dante just pictured, for a moment, the terrified expression on Mammon's face when he threw him down the chasm.

'…nah, just drop it, will ya?'

'…why am I under the impression that you just made a very bad pun?'

'Don't know! You all think so poorly of little old me…'

Dante then turned his gaze to the body of Tarask.

'You didn't waste your time!'

Liya nodded, without much conviction.

'He said Ziz died because she had fulfilled her destiny. That helping me was…her reason to be in this universe.'

Dante pouted unconvincingly.

'I don't believe in destiny. People make their choices, and live with the consequences. When Ziz decided to help you, she knew what she was going into. And we…'

He turned to the light shining in the distance.

'We get ready to fight a God, knowing we might get the spanking of the century.'

'I guess you're right…'

She took one last glance at Tarask.

'…but I wonder why he died.'

There was a moment of silence, then she took the stone Tarask gave her, and the one Ziz had left behind.

'You got the fragment?' she asked.

Dante took out the stone he got from Mammon. Again, there was this whirring sound as the three stones whirled into the air before assembling into a complete sword in a flash of light. Once more, Irkalla's Key was complete.

'Finally…'

Slowly, almost solemnly, Liya seized the pommel of the sword.

'WOOOOW!'

An explosion of light tore through the darkness of the Underworld, burning the shadows like a wildfire. For several seconds, Liya was at the heart of wave after wave of pure, intense light. And then it faded away, until it was no more than a faint glow running through the sword.

'What the hell was that?! What happ…huh?'

Dante was looking at Liya, an astounded look on his face.

'…what? Why are you looking at me like that?'

All of her wounds seemed to have disappeared, as if they had been blown away by the light itself. Her face was less pale as well, but the most striking detail was…

'Liya…your wing…'

She took a look at her wing, and she couldn't repress a gasp of amazement.

Her wing had become a multitude of long golden peacock feathers, shimmering in the dark like ice under the sun. Each feather seemed to stretch its light into the cosmos, like the sun rising in the horizon.

Peacock's feathers. The Mark of the Infinite Ones.

'But…but how?' she stammered. 'I thought it had been taken from me…'

'Maybe it's a reaction to the sword forged by Rodin? The Key may be resonating with the remnants of your powers as an Infinite One?'

She gently shook her wing, the feathers undulating with infinite grace like a dancer's cloth.

'You look gorgeous, at any rate!'

That made her chuckle.

'You really think so, or is there a second thought?'

'See, that's because the ladies have that kind of reaction that I'm still single!'

'Really? I thought it was because you never clean up your own place.'

Suddenly, and surprisingly considering they were still in the Underworld, Dante's phone rang.

'You got phone coverage here?' Liya asked in surprise.

'Apparently…wasn't aware my contract included the Underworld,' he said before picking up. 'Yeah? Ok…ok…ah?'

His face grew slightly tense.

'…but when you say a lot, you mean…oh wow. I see…ok, don't try anything, I'm on my way!'

He hung up.

'What's happening, up there?' Liya asked.

'Nergal is starting to move. He's heading towards another city.'

'We're running out of time…'

'I know. I should go up there to slow him down…'

'Can you?'

'Well I wouldn't be able to keep the show going for very long, but yeah…'

'Well go, then!'

'Yeah but…'

'But what? It's ok! I can handle Amali! I stop him, then I join you!'

'Look, it's not that, it's…'

'Dante, it's ok! Don't worry…'

She paused for a second, and said:

'…I know I have to kill him.'

Dante looked shocked for a moment…then he just nodded.

'…you knew.'

'Of course I did. I knew that severing the connection between Amali and Nergal would not be that simple. I'm not stupid.'

She had once again taken this neutral, declarative tone, this calm and rational voice he had gotten used to.

'You don't have to do it, Liya. You can go back to the surface and help Trish and Lady contain Nergal.'

She looked at him with gratitude.

'I could yes…' she said. 'But that wouldn't be fair, now would it?'

She glanced at the Key of Irkalla in her hand, feeling overwhelmed with a strange sensation. It was the sword that had killed Assia. It was the sword that was to kill her son.

'I can't let you kill him in my stead. He's my responsibility. I can't run away from it.'

'But can you really do it? Can you…kill your own son?'

She closed her eyes, for a moment. The realization of what she had to do was slowly taking shape in her mind, like snow slowly falling on her shoulders.

'I know that he and I both would have wanted it all to happen differently, to finally have our happy ending. But my own son is trying to destroy the universe, and I can't hide from that. I can't run away from that.'

She thought every single word. She should have been afraid, terrified even. She should have felt despair, rage, absolute fury at the mere thought of what she had to do. She didn't. Something seemed to protect her from these devastating emotions, as if they were naught but a distant storm rumbling on the other side of a vast, silent sea.

'You're very brave', Dante said.

'I'm really not. I just don't have a choice. I don't think I ever did…'

They both stood there, staring at each other for a long time, unsure of what would happen next, neither wanting to head back into battle, to leave the quiet, soothing silence of the Dark Kingdom.

'You sure you'll be alright?' Dante asked.

'I'll do what I have to. You focus on staying alive.'

Once more, he gave her this smile, this genuine, honest smile he had first shown in the ruins of the hospital.

'So farewell but not goodbye, right?' he said.

'Farewell but not goodbye. Exactly.'

And they shook hands, both perfectly conscious of what they had to do.

'…say, before I leave. You told me that the reason you took care of Assia was because you wanted to make her lot less painful, right?'

Liya nodded.

'Sure it wasn't the other way around?'

'…sorry?'

Once again, he showed this aggravating grin, the grin of a man who knows better, and he turned around and left.

'Food for thought!' he said, leaving her slightly bewildered by this last cryptic question.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's notes: Well…here we are.

The final boss, the last battle. This was…complicated to write. Writing fights is not my forte, to be honest (I read many people who were far better than me at that), but hopefully, it turned out well.

Well, it's been a long, tedious journey, but we're reaching the end. The next chapter will be the last, I hope to wrap everything up (maybe an epilogue, at the end, but who knows…). At any rate, thanks to those who've read my stuff. Here we go for the fight.

SHOWTIME

Nergal was…ugly.

To be fair, there are different kings of ugly: there's the "not beautiful", meaning it's not really appealing to the eye, but you get used to it (just smile and nod…). There's the "nightmare fuel", the sort of Eldricht abomination that comes right out of a Lovecraft novel. There's the "ugly but cool", that most emo kids put on the wall of the rooms to piss their parents.

And then there's "ugly". With a capital "UG", as if the very word was written on his forehead with a big, yellow crayon.

That was Nergal. He was massive, his torso and legs were considerably muscular, and yet his pyramid-shaped head and his four arms looked tiny by comparison. There were spikes coming out of his back, and we could decipher some sort of huge collar around his neck.

Truth be told, as Dante stared as the much-talked-about God of Death hovering among the ruins of the city, he couldn't hide a tinge of disappointment.

'I hope you broke all the mirrors in town! Better pile up decades of bad luck than having a heart attack seeing your reflection!'

Nergal turned an interested gaze at Dante (well, supposedly…he didn't have eyes, so…), as if he was shown an amusing curio.

'The Son of Sparda…' he said in a voice that, surprisingly, wasn't menacing in any way whatsoever. 'I didn't think I would ever have the opportunity to meet you in person.'

'Well, if you hadn't made a mess of the place, perhaps we wouldn't have met. That way, you'd have avoided getting your ass kicked!'

Nergal burst into delighter laughter. The God of Death seemed genuinely content.

'I see you inherited your father's wit! He did love to banter with his enemies as well. He inflicted me a great defeat, 2000 years ago.'

'Wanna go another 2000, then?'

Nergal laughed again, but his voice (or at the very least his growl) became a bit more unctuous, a bit more nagging.

'Hahaha! I'm afraid you are too late, Son of Sparda! Soon, the Darkness will cover the entirety of your world. The sun will be covered in dust, the earth itself with die under my feet, and every single living being will slowly die out.'

'Cool…and you really think I'm gonna let you do that?'

'Perhaps you will. Darkness, after all, is a gift. And the final Gift of Darkness…is Victory.'

Now his voice went straight from unctuous and nagging to "I'm gonna wreck your ass" territory.

'For Darkness is everywhere. It's under the wood burning in the hearth, under the kettle singing under the fire. It's under your chair, under your table, under your bed. Walk under the sun, in the middle of day, and I will be there, following your every step.'

Suddenly, a giant mace appeared in the God's hands.

'Don't you see, Son of Sparda? The brighter the Light becomes, the darker the Shadow grows! You do not stand a chance against me. What say you to that?'

'Only one thing.'

Then, taking his sword in his right hand and his gun in the other, Dante looked up to Nergal and, with a crazy smile on his face, yelled:

'C'mon, baby! LET'S ROCK!'

With each step she took climbing up the stairs to the Throne, Liya felt her mind filling with a dark shroud of conflicting emotions. There was hope, that inextinguishable flame at the thought of seeing Assia again. There was fear, a gnawing tinge of doubt at the thought that any failure on her part would irreversibly mean the destruction of the human world. But beyond that, there was this overwhelming, terrible sense of guilt and anger at the thought of what she was about to do, the crime she was about to commit.

For Amali was right on one point: it shouldn't have happened that way. Their meeting should have been the end of the story, the comforting light of dawn coming after years and years of pain, of suffering, of humiliation, of despair. Was it fate? Had she been destined from the start to go from hardship to hardship, from pain to pain? Was the death of her son by her own hands the final punishment for her offense to the Almighty?

'So you did come.'

As she reached the top of the stairs, as she reached this large, pure white circular structure floating amidst the dark like an immaculate water lily, all these questions, this whole maelstrom of emotions that raged within her mind instantly died out. The face she was looking at, at the moment, was as familiar to her as her own, and yet it felt as if her memories were someone else's, as if everything that had occurred since the hospital had washed them away.

'I see you've regained some of your powers? You look beautiful,' he said.

She said nothing, merely fluttering her long, golden feathers a bit. Amali's eyes then went down on the sword she was carrying.

'…so?' he asked. 'Where do we go from there?'

Liya stayed silent for a moment, took a deep breath, and started to talk, taking time and tremendous care in the choice of her words.

'Amali, please listen. I know the hatred that you feel. I felt it too, at some point. Anyone who experienced what we did would be right to feel that way. But no matter what you do, no matter how powerful you become, you will never be able to destroy the Two Kingdoms. No one can. Other, wiser, cleverer and more powerful than us have tried and failed, and suffered even more for that. I refuse to let you go down this path.'

Amali's expression was hard to decipher. Distressed? Upset?

'I know exactly what I risk. I know that I will go through a lot of hardships before I reach my goal, if I ever reach it. I know I will probably die trying, and that They will make me pay my crimes a thousandfold. I understand all of that.'

'Then why…?'

'What I don't understand…what I refuse to understand…is why…Goddammit, why…'

He couldn't contain it anymore.

'WHY WON'T YOU STAND BY MY SIDE?!'

His fury seemed to soak the very fabric of the place, make it tremble under its heat.

'Ignoring what they've done in the past! Blindly, stupidly disregarding the solitude they condemned us to?! The misery the inflicted upon us?! You know I thought…I thought you'd be the last person to oppose me. If it had been me who'd been thrown down to Hell, if I had been the one to be tortured for twenty years, I would have done NOTHING but search the universe for these arrogant pieces of shit…AND TEAR THEM TO OBLIVION!

'You don't understand…'

Back at the hospital, when her son had exposed his plans, Liya had felt that terrible, scathing grief pierce her heart. Now, as Amali was screaming his hatred towards Paradiso and Inferno, she felt no grief.

Only pity.

'I don't think you've ever understood…'

'Understood what? That you suffered enough as it is? That you would abandon your own blood just to spare yourself a few more trials?'

As she had reached the top of the stairs, this whole maelstrom of emotions that raged within her mind had instantly died out. In this place, as briskly clean as ice on a mountaintop, cool and remote, Liya just gazed deep down within herself, at her own guilt, her own shame. She dissected them. She reassembled them and pulled them apart again.

'…all I've ever wanted to do was destroy them. A day doesn't go by when I don't think about subjecting them to every horrendous torture they've dealt out to others…and then end them. But if I do that, Amali…if I allow myself to walk down this path…I'll never come back.'

She took a step towards him.

'I need to come back, Amali. For Assia. For this human world you're willing to sacrifice. This world that is free from the rules of either Kingdom.'

She extended her hand to him.

'You hate the Two Kingdoms so much you don't realize there is so much more than just Heaven and Hell.'

Amali's face seemed to melt at his mother's words.

'…why? I'm not talking about destroying the human world! I'm talking about them! JUST THEM! And do it because…'

Words seemed to lose themselves in his throat. Tears brimming in his eyes, he barely managed to say, in a sob:

'…because they took you away from me.'

She wanted to walk to him, to cuddle him in her arms. She wanted to wipe out his tears and comfort him, like any mother would.

She took a step. He backed away.

'Amali…you don't have to be alone, anymore. We can live here together, in peace, far from their war. If you go, we will lose each other again. And if we both go, none of us will survive. You know it.'

For a long time, none of them spoke another word. Liya was just anxiously waiting for her son's reaction.

'So you won't follow me, then?'

When he raised his eyes, there was a wild aura was shining in them.

'…I can't. I'm sorry.'

She understood there was nothing more to do. Nothing more to say. That path he had chosen, he had started walking it long ago, far too long. He had made his choice.

'Then I guess it all comes down to this,' he said.

So, clutching his fists, he raised into the air, breathing in the very energy of Irkalla, having it gravitating around him like a supernova.

'I've worked toward this moment for twenty years! You can't ask me to back down now! THIS is my moment!'

She raised her head. She knew their previous fight had mortified her to the extreme. She knew this fight would be as painful. She knew each that, once more, every strike would pierce her heart and ravage her mind. And yet, Liya felt calm, serene.

The fate of the human world was at stake. Dante was counting on her.

And deep down, there was one last thing she could do for Amali. One last thing she could do as a Mother.

So, bracing herself for the fight of her life, she spread out her wing and raised her sword before her eyes.

'Forgive me, Amali.'

So that's how things were: Dante was approximately 6 feet tall, whereas Nergal, a near omnipotent God of Death who just obliterated a decently big city, was towering at more than 30 feet. A mere flick of his fingers sent buildings flying, bullets and swords bounced off its weird scaly skin, and the whole place was seriously starting to run out of hiding spots.

So yeah…it wasn't looking really good.

'I find myself at a disappointment, Son of Sparda. I was expecting you to put up more of a fight.'

'Nah, t's just the warmup, pal! Haven't even started…OUCH!'

Nergal raised his scepter and stroke Dante with such power that the Devil Hunter went flying through the city. Seeing a concrete wall getting increasingly close increasingly fast, Dante closed his eyes and braced himself.

He went through one ("Ouch"), two ("Whouaie!"), three ("Aouff!"), four walls before came into contact with the ground again. He stayed there laying for a few seconds, took a moment to check if his bones were still there ("hey, what are you doing here?"), and got up.

'What?...that's it?...I can do this all night, buddy!'

Another strike, which he avoided at the last moment.

'Yeah well…hope the night doesn't last too long…' he thought.

Liya did a backflip and landed a few feet away from Amali. Blade to blade, they were identical. Neither of them gaining the upper hand, none of them losing any significant advantage. Blasts of light burst out, bounces ended up in slides, dodges or blocks. One rose to the air, the other followed.

And in the fury of the battle, as she was parrying the attacks of the creature of pure, absolute rage that used to be her son, Liya realized something.

The young man trying to kill her at the moment was everything she had spent her former life fighting: a murderer. A nihilist. A man who was on the verge of self-destruction and who was ready to drag the world in his fall. And yet, in spite of all of that…

She still loved him.

Angels were only supposed to love the Almighty. Any other form of attachment was forbidden. But she never understood that. Never wanted to understand. She had loved Rodin, and from that love was born a child. There was nothing wrong in that. There was nothing sinful in that.

'It's over, Mother! I become more powerful by the second! You can't win!'

In a roar of darkness, Amali smashed Liya against a pillar. The shock left her dizzy, out of breath. He threw himself at her, pressing her against the marble, his hands seizing her wrists with incredible strength. She felt the bones in her forearms bend, threatening to break at any moment…then she dropped her sword.

Surprised, Amali let go of her right hand to grab the Key. She took the opportunity to free her other hand, swiftly dodged Amali's imminent attack, got back up…

For a moment, she couldn't think anymore. She did feel the Key slash through her back like a scissors cutting through paper. She did feel the cold contact with the marble floor as she tumbled like a ragdoll. Then nothing. She was still conscious, but everything felt so distant, so vague.

'I didn't want to do this, Mother. But you left me no choice.'

Liya did not reply. Her body felt limp, lifeless. She didn't even have the strength to open her eyes to look at her son. She didn't even want to. Right now, for some reason, all she could think about was that young, eight-year old girl she caught shoplifting a few weeks back.

In a wide, sweeping gesture, Amali raised his hand, ready to strike the final blow. She didn't even try to scream. In a supreme effort, she opened her eyes, one last time.

The clouds had stopped moving. The sky was now nothing but a beautiful stretch of colors blended together, unmoving and still, as if frozen in time. She took one last glance at his tiny glimpse of life, then…

'AAAARG!'

Amali leaped back. He was holding his hand in pain, as if burnt by something.

'WHAT THE?!'

Liya had only trick left in her sleeve. It was a silly trick, and she would only have one shot at it.

But it was a good trick.

By a small, unnoticeable gesture of her finger, she had focused her energy to send concentrated heat into the pommel of the sword. The same trick she had used on that policeman on the top of Carver Tower.

Amali's fingers suddenly opened, dropping the Key.

Liya extended her arms with her palm open. The sword came falling into her hand, and…

'…pain.'

Not very original, I know, but when you just got flung through piles of steel and concrete by a giant Death God, your mind isn't quite ready to come up with witty come-backs.

'I never thought it would be have been this easy,' Nergal said, menacingly closing in on Dante. 'It would seem the blood of Sparda has grown weaker over 2000 years.'

Nergal raised his scepter, his head slightly tilted on the side, like a child wondering what would happen next.

'To kill he who beat Lucifer himself…such an honor.'

Dante really tried to come up with something, anything, one last jab for posterity ("I came, I saw, I conquered"? Nah, already taken…). Nothing came.

So, as Nergal's mace came crashing down on him, Dante merely raised his sword to lessen the impact, closed his eyes, and waited for the sweet embrace of death…

'…WHAT?!'

Normally, he should be dead. I mean, a huge bluish monster with four arms had just gave him the slap of the century, so normally, he should be dead.

Then he realized he was still smelling the breath of the bloody thing ('for Pete's sake, take a mint!'). Then he felt a drop of something liquid on his forehead. Carefully, he opened one eye.

The gigantic knuckle of Nergal was inches away from his face, pierced by his sword. Normally, he shouldn't have been able to pierce the monster's armor.

Normally.

'…well that took her long enough!'

Dante pushed the monster's hand away and got back up on his feet, a large grin on his face.

'You made three mistakes, pal! Three mistakes you're gonna severely regret! First one: did you really think I'd come to face you without a backup plan?'

Nergal was holding his wounded hand with a stunned look. It had obviously been a long time since he had last seen his own blood.

'One of my friends went to Irkalla to mess with your throne! Right now, you're completely out of battery, dude!'

The Death God had lost any sign of detachment and was now staring at Dante in horror.

'So tell me, Death God: how does it feel to be mortal again, huh?'

'You worthless worm…you think you scare me? This loss of invincibility means nothing! I spent the last ten minutes massacring you like a rag doll, you didn't even land a single blow on…'

'And that brings me to your SECOND mistake.'

Suddenly, Dante's voice changed. It became stronger, deeper, more menacing; nothing to do with his usual tongue-in-cheek tone.

'…you didn't seriously expect me to give it my all while you were still invincible, did you?'

Dante's eyes then became bloodshot, his entire body seemed to light up with an endless pool of energy. Sheer, absolute power seemed to swirl around his body like a storm of fire. Nergal felt a tinge of fear overwhelm him. That was something he hadn't felt for the last 2000 years.

Without further ado, Dante took Rebellion out of its sheathe, locked his eyes in Nergal's, and said:

'My turn.'

There was a strike. And another. And yet another. His sword cut deep into the Death God's torso, without stopping, without doubt, each stroke faster and more powerful still than the previous one. And as Dante completely, utterly lost himself in his Dance Macabre, as the blood of the Death God spurted on his face like fresh water from a fountain, Nergal screamed.

He tried to stop him, each stroke felt like a meteor, each contact with the blade felt like a deflagration. He tried to run away, but the Son of Sparda was wielding his sword with such speed and precision that he was entrapped in a storm of blades. He tried to beg, but Dante gave no respite, no down-time, striking with a savagery, a sadism almost, that he never thought he could display. He tried to scream, one last time, but as Dante shoved his sword into his throat, cutting his breathing, flooding his rib cage with his own blood, no sound came out of his mouth. When finally he fell to the ground, dying, delirious, traumatized, his body was covered in cuts and blood, as if mauled by a tiger.

'You see, you were right,' Dante said. 'Darkness is everywhere. I know very well that there's no way to destroy it completely. But the thing with darkness? All it takes is a box of matches to keep it at bay.'

Dante had reverted back to his human form, and yet his glare was more menacing, more terrifying than the 9 circles of Hell combined.

'See, Nergal? No matter what way you look at it, this is my world. And these are my rules.'

In spite of his deplorable state (he kinda looked like an overused, bloody sponge at the moment…), Nergal found the strength for one last laugh.

'Don't think you've won…Death is written in every living being from the moment they are born…I can come back anytime!...so long as…so long as there are people begging for me!'

'Aaaaand this is your third mistake.'

With these words, much to Nergal's surprise, Dante took out his guns.

'…you seriously didn't expect me to let you go, did you?'

Nergal felt stunned, for a moment, as if Dante words were just too absurd to understand. There was a silence, a very long silence, and then…

'…you BASTAAAAAARD!'

In one last, desperate effort, Nergal found the willpower to stand up and rush towards Dante, hands aiming straight at his throat.

As such, when Dante raised his pistols and aimed smack in the incoming face of Nergal, it felt incredibly satisfying when, finally, he was able to say:

'Jackpot!'

She laid there for a long time, her eyes closed, gently massaging her arms and legs. To her surprise, she felt a thin drop of sweat running down her forehead. Air was still filling her lungs, though her breathing was shallow. She could still feel the coldness of the floor against her chin. Opening her eyes with some difficulty, she could still see the huge marble pillars, the stretch of darkness beyond the untainted purity of the ground. She was still alive. Once she realized that, every breath seemed to turn to gold.

Slowly, carefully, she straightened herself up. The pain didn't seem to bother her. She barely registered it, anymore. She put one foot on the floor, then the other.

Amali was there, laying on the floor, his blood running across the white marble like a snake. He was crying. She didn't know if it was out of pain or sorrow.

'I wanted to change the world…' he said in a whisper. 'To free it from the Old Conflicts…a perfect world…'

'The world doesn't need to be perfect, Amali. People foresee change, learn from it, and change themselves. That's life. We live to see the future for those who aren't there to see it anymore.'

Gently, ever so softly, she knelt down and took Amali's head in her arms. As their eyes met, she realized she too was on the verge of tears.

'I didn't want to kill you, Amali…I just wanted to protect you.'

'…from what?'

She hesitated for a second, then said:

'Yourself, I suppose…'

They spoke no word, for some time, as if to preserve the intimacy of the moment.

'…you stay with me?' he asked.

With a sad, sorrowful smile, she kissed his forehead.

'Always. Until the end.'

That was all. She stayed there, for minutes, maybe hours, cradling her son against her chest, gently stroking his hair, without a word. Just a mother standing vigil over her son before the final journey.

She couldn't help but think back on everything that had led her here. Her banishment, her escape, all those nights spent plundering museums for the Key's fragments…and this. This final, silent, peaceful moment.

There was a gasp, one last breath, and he was dead, in the silence of Irkalla, with his mother for only witness.

Liya felt the tears running down her cheeks. She took one last look at his face, slender, slightly cleft, so similar to Rodin's. She took one last look at his eyes, his big, chestnut eyes he had inherited from her. She closed his eyelids, and gave one last kiss on his cheek.

'Goodbye, my son.'

This is how she lost her son, alone amidst the darkness of the Land of the Dead, praying for him to at long last find the peace fate had denied him in life.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's note: …I really, REALLY, didn't think I'd finish it at some point.

It took A LOT for me to reach the end of this story. As I look back, I'm proud of what I've done.

I'd like to thank all of you who've read, and I really hope you enjoyed my story. I wish to address special thanks to Angel Wolf, who wrote very constructive reviews and was very supportive of my endeavor.

I have ideas for an epilogue, but for now, I'll leave it at that. In another five months, perhaps? XD

Anyway, this is the end. Thank you all for your time, and take care.

HOPE

Assia didn't really understand where she was, when she woke up. There was some sort of yellow hessian tent above her head, but judging from the light, it wasn't night-time yet. She was laying on a rather comfy blanket, with a simple sheet up her neck. She took a look around. A huge smile appeared on her face when she saw Liya, sleeping in a chair, right next to her.

'Liya?'

The young woman groggily opened her eyes.

'Assia!'

She jumped out of her chair and took the little girl in her arms.

'Oh, Kiddo!'

Again, she cried. To be honest, she had rather not, she had rather kept her composure in front of the child, being able to hug her again was just a burst of pure, unaltered joy.

'Liya…can't breathe…'

'Oh, sorry…how are you? Are you ok? Hungry? I brought apples, I know you love app…'

'Liya?'

'Yes, Kid?'

'What happened? I remember the room with the table, the nice lady, and then…what happened?'

'It's a long story, Kiddo. I'll tell you all about it, promise.'

'Why not now?'

'You still need to rest.'

'I don't!' she said with a yawn.

'See?' Liya said, half-chuckling.

'Yeah ok, maybe a bit…'

'Don't worry. I'm staying with you. I'm not going anywhere.'

She fondled her cheek with a smile.

'I'm glad, you know?' Assia said.

'Yeah…so am I, Kid.'

'No, I mean…I'm glad for you.'

'Really? Why?'

'I don't know…you just look less sad.'

Liya was stunned by these words.

'…less sad?'

'Yeah, I don't know…you look like you're hurting less.'

There was a pause, then Liya just smiled at Assia.

'Sleep, honey. Get your strength back.'

It took less than a minute for Assia to get back to sleep. As the kid's face was starting to get some color back, Liya just thought about what Dante had said before leaving to face Nergal.

What if he had been right? What if Assia had saved her life, and not the other way around? Paradiso had taken everything from her, everything that was precious to her. She had been betrayed, forsaken by her own kind, rid of any reason to keep on living. All they had left her was this wound in her heart. And this wound? She was now sharing it with this little girl.

This little girl who was barely half her size; this small, fragile being whose wounds were so similar to hers, and who gave her what she herself never received.

This small, fragile little girl who was barely half her size had proven to her that even Fallen Angels could love.

'Look, I know there's not much left, but let's be honest, we did pretty good, don't you think?'

Morrison didn't seem to share Dante's optimism.

'Well at the very least, the building sector won't suffer from unemployment anytime soon…'

The ruins of the city were stretching over several miles. The population would have to live under tents for a few months but hey! Let's look at the bright side!

Nergal was dead. I mean, seriously dead. Most of his pack had been eliminated shortly after he had taken a bullet in the face, and access to Irkalla had been sealed off once again. Everything was fine! So the rest, really not Dante's problem…

'Well,' Morrison said. 'I would love to stay and chat, but the mayor asked for me. I don't think he's to keen on being warned so damn late about the "Magnitude 7 earthquake", if you know what I mean…'

'Yeah, wish that guy took a building on the face…'

Dante turned his gaze towards the setting sun. It would definitely be a pain the ass to find a strawberry sundae in this mess.

'Hey.'

Liya had just joined him, the Irkalla's key in her hand.

'How the kid?' Dante asked.

'Resting. It's been a difficult day…'

She seemed to hesitate for a second, but she eventually said:

'You were right…'

'I'm usually right! I don't know why, but it seems to surprise people all the time…Right about what?'

'Assia.'

She raised her eyes to the sky. Stars were already starting to appear.

'When I got out of Inferno, back then…I hadn't seen the light for nearly two decades. When I got out, I…'

She couldn't finish her sentence. Dante merely nodded. He was familiar enough with the Underworld to know what it can do to a person if they're not prepared.

'Assia, she was like breath of fresh air, for me. She proved to me I could still create attachment to people. Even after…after all I went through, back there. It was like seeing again after being blind for years.'

'So what now?'

Liya just smiled. A genuinely joyful smile.

'Traveling. She and I, the two of us. Go and see the ocean, that's something we've been planning before.'

'Try the Pacific coast.'

'The Pacific coast?'

'You know what people say about it?'

She laughed.

'Another movie quote?' she asked.

'They say it has no memory.'

'No memory..'

An image of this huge, blue expanse of water popped into her mind, stretching to the horizon. She could feel the freshness of the water on her face, the heat of the sun. No memory…

'…I think I'm gonna love that.'

With a smile, she handed him the Key.

'Here you go. As promised, you can have it, now that I'm done with it.'

Dante seemed to consider the offer, then just said.

'Nah, you keep it.'

'But you said…'

'It was forged by the angel you loved. It should stay in the family. Trust me, I know about that sort of thing.'

'But…'

'After all, if anyone tries to do something stupid with it, you'll just give me a call, right?'

'Haha! Ok, no problem!'

The last lights of day were slowly fading away, leaving but this pinkish aura on the horizon.

'Thank you…' she said. 'For everything.'

'Nah, don't mention it. I had my own reasons for meddling.'

He casually tapped her on the shoulder.

'Come and say hi from time to time, will ya?'

'I will.'

He gave her one last smile and left, hands in his pockets, after another day of work.

'Hey Dante!'

She had just recalled an important detail.

'I really was wondering: when I came to your office, you treated me like an enemy. But when we met again at the hospital, you took my defense. What made you change your mind?'

He stopped for a moment, and gave her this annoying grin.

'Devils never cry,' he said flatly.

And he went his way, leaving her half-disappointed by his answer.

'Neither do Angels…' she muttered to herself.

Footsteps pulled her out of her reverie. Assia was there, walking toward her, limping slightly.

'It's over now, is it?' the child asked.

'It is, yes.'

Liya was twisting her hands nervously. It was high time she mentioned a few things to the kid.

'Assia, listen…' she said in a whisper. 'You know…you know I'm not human. I wasn't born in this world. Do you still want…'

Without letting her finish her sentence, Assia came snuggling against her chest. And, as usual, Liya felt her heart tighten. She always felt that way when they hugged. It felt both nice and embarrassing, both tender and painful. It was a feeling she had never truly grasped. When they hugged, she suddenly felt very frail, very fragile. It was as if her life became a thin crystal thread in the clumsy hands of this child.

'You said we would stick together, remember?' Assia asked.

'…I do, yes.'

'So we stick together. And we go to see the ocean. Just like you said.'

The full moon, shining in the sky like a protective halo, was beaming its soothing light over the camp. It was one of these nights when the stars seemed so close you imagine you can pick them up in the palm of your hand.

'I'd live that…' Liya said.

Never before had the night seemed so beautiful.


End file.
